Star Trek: Primeval Civility
by LordWinter13
Summary: Arriving in a different universe, a different time, Ivan has been transported from a war torn alternate Earth to an alternate Star Trek Universe. Having past knowledge of the original Trek series, Ivan must manage the delicate line between trusting in his knowledge and try to adapt to this alien and yet familiar world. OC/SI hybrid.
1. 1- Primeval Civility

Star Trek: Primeval Civility

'Ooo...' Ivan cooed mentally, his barely lucid conscious recognizing the stimulation, '... someone lickin' my toes?' It was odd, bordering on ticklish, but undoubtedly pleasant.

This sensation steadily climbed up from his toes to his calfs, knees, and almost laughed when it got to his groin.

Then it reached his intestines, and the pleasantness was replaced by immediate discomfort, and the feeling to vomit forced the cognitive desire to get out of his bunk and find a toilet.

As he reached to his side, he buckled down as his hand met a solid surface. Forcing his eyes open had never been harder, even before being recruited by the Militia. His lids could have been replaced by lead cans for all he knew, as his pupils only began to realize; he was surrounded. Enclosed, cocooned. He could only see enough through the light that barely filtered through the material that encompassed him, with barely enough room to move his hands to his chest.

Ivan ran his palms, god his arms were heavy, along the eggshell looking material, noting its fleshy, uneven surface like the skin of a peach that was stretched out of the outlines of a rib cage. He wasn't sure why he hasn't gone into a claustrophobic shock, this shit would probably have kicked his ass into a panic driven overdrive.

Ivan beat a palm against its surface, despite how little he knew he probably would do. Whoever left him in here certainly wasn't concered over his well being.

Ivan slept. In and out for what felt like days, waking only briefly due to the uncomfortable cold, being naked and all, and the occasional drop of whatever was in his body that was putting him into a diet-coma.

He was thirsty, hungry, but tired, dear god, so damn tired. Eventually, he needed to urinate whatever waste was still in his body, and when he let loose, the 'pod' stunk horribly of piss and his own unbathed body.

Ivan, once, felt like he was being lifted or thrown around, but concluded it was in his dreams.

'Fuck.' He felt like weeping just at the sheer hopelessness of all this, but lacked the physical energy to do so. 'Just let me die in my sleep...' He felt... unusually clear headed, the stings of hunger pains and dragging needs of thirst no longer plaguing him after a point. Was this how it was to starve? Or die of dehydration? Ivan wasn't sure.

And he wouldn't know for certain.

The burning, orange line of light cut into the pod, near his top left shoulder, and he followed its path as it carved into the fleshy material of what was to be his tomb; down... past down his feet where he couldn't see, then up again on his right then above his head.

Ivan didn't even think it was real at first when a pair of hands ripped the carved case from the rest of the pod, held only by stretchy sinew that remained even after the laser cut.

The light was so bright... For a moment, Ivan thought his heart just gave out, sending him to the 'Heaven Tunnel' so crudely and repeatedly explained in so many books and movies, but then he heard voices as he felt hands slide under his neck and thighs, lifting him up and began carrying him... somewhere. He couldn't see, couldn't recall seeing surroundings before his interment... but he could listen, and what he heard fully impaled the idea he was dreaming into his mind.

Ivan heard a gruff, booming voice declare after a short chime, "Enterprise! Emergency beam up to Sick Bay!"

'Great, now I'm being rescued by fuckin' Spock, Worf and Chief Scotty...' Ivan chuckled internally from that, forming a phantom smile with bone dry, chapped lips.

The commotion that followed was a blur of voices, yells and the occasional pricking against arms, necks and the uncomfortably enjoyable sensation of being bent at the hip, sitting more upright. It felt like how a squeaky hinge creeks, but with the added sensation of breaking eggshells ripping through the inside of his body.

When Ivan regained his awareness, not even a thimble of what he had even in comparison to the pod, he tried reaching forward limply with a hand, expecting to encounter a surface a short distance away.

Instead, he felt soft digits wrap around his hand, gently forcing his hand back down, making him notice the plump cushion that held him. "It's alright, your alright..." A soothing, clearly female voice spoke calmly, "just rest."

"W..." Ivan tried to ask, but immediately started a coughing fit. "W..."

"Water?"

"W... whiskey..." Ivan's voice crackled through his cough, "Whiskey... all the whiskey in Kentucky." He near whispered.

He swore he heard the woman expel a breath that was tinted with humor. Not a chuckle, not a laugh, but a smile that could somehow be heard rather than seen. "Water for now. Doctor's orders." The hand moved from his own and lifted his head up, mouth more than welcoming to the cool, refreshing water that when it touched his tongue made him moan lowly as if he had tasted the very ambrosia of the gods themselves.

After finishing the glass, Ivan was set back down, and he forced himself to open his eyes. One more time. To make sure it wasn't a dream.

What he saw was red hair, pale skin and the long trimmings of a blue coat with a black uniform, amidst a face that seemed eerily familiar to one he's seen before. Before the State Stand, even before the Wars of oh-Ten. Back to a time of peace, innocence, hope... and entertainment. "Crush..." Ivan croaked before coughing another fit. "Crusher."

The woman didn't respond, forcing a tense moment of silence within the man. "Am I... dead? You can't be. You are... you ain't real."

"You're not dead, but you are in bad shape. Please, just rest for now, the answers will come when you are ready." Definitely Doctor Beverly Crusher's voice rationalized to her patient.

Unable to confront her plan of recovery first, ask questions later, Ivan sighed contentedly, feeling the cushion beneath him absorb his awareness like heat to a cold pillow.

[][[[

When next he opened his eyes, Ivan's mind was clearer than a summer's day. Eyes opening wide to a covered darkness, something covering his face but was open enough to show light at the opening towards his neck.

As he tried to reach up, he felt his hands immediately constrained to the table he was laying on, jerking both pairs of limbs to feel any kind of gain. Either he was so weak as to not budge the binds, or 'I'm dealing with some major voodoo I don't know how to doodoo.' Ivan sighed mentally.

"Hello?" He asked out, voice feeling so much better. "Anyone out there? Anyone there?" Ivan chuckled at the unintentional reference, "Does anybody wonder?" He sung lowly and without any real rhythm. As boredom starting snowballing out of control, he began humming to speaking then finally to just yelling out lyrics to what songs Ivan could remember.

"WON'T... YOU... COME... AND... SAVE ME!" Singing, if the word could be used, to a little tidy by Alice in pains. Or rains. Alice in something, he couldn't remember, and as he finally began his crude crescendo, JEESSUS CHR-!"

"Ahem!"

Ivan immediately shut up, feeling a rush of embarrassment that he allowed himself to get so distracted as to not hear anyone come. That, and he exposed someone to his crappy singing. "Um, hello."

"Greetings," A man with a moderately deep voice said politely, "...sorry for interrupting you, but I didn't want you to panic before I took down your bed's cover."

Ivan, now focused, clearly heard another set of feet walk toward's his side even while the man talked. "And the restraints?"

"Yes, we'll get right to those after a couple of questions."

A heard beeps, not clicking or typing, to his left, and then the solid bar that had covered his face retracted back into its resting place.

As Ivan began to adjust to the new levels of light, the bed moved his upper body to a sitting position. Blinking away disorientation, he peered ahead, seeing two standing figures, no more than five paces away.

The dreamy state he had before returned as he stared at the man and woman in utter shock. He thought he dreamt getting hospitalized by a Star Trek character due to his brain firing one to many neurons that reached all the way back when he watched the stuff. Now, he is in the presence of two more.

A bearded and damn near a giant from where Ivan sat, William Riker.

To his left, stood an alluring, long haired and black of eye Deanna Troi.

Riker smiled, "I'm commander Riker of the Starship Enterprise. With me, Councilor Trio. Mind telling us your name?"

Ivan didn't answer. Hell, he didn't even hear the man speak, only seeing him move his lips. Paralyzed. Shocked... terrified. 'This... this can't be real. This can't be real!' Ivan was visibly sweating and after several moments of trying to process, and failing miserably, at how these two people could be in front of him, began to give short, panicked breaths.

"You... you're not real." Ivan gasped. "You're not-!"

[][[[

Riker had sprinted out of the isolation ward and into the wider isolation bay, "He's having convulsion!" To anyone but looking for Crusher in particular. An ensign quickly rushed past the commander, getting any information from Trio, having tried to get a reading on the patient since he started seizing with a nearby tricorder, the nurse quickly yelled out that the man was having an intense 'psychogenic seizure', rushing to a hypodispenser, loading a spray with clonazepam and injecting him in the neck.

After several seconds, he slowed down and then just stopped, his head turning to one side, bubbles of vomit pouring out of his mouth.

"Oozim to Crusher." The ensign clicked her combadge. "The isolation patient had a seizure."

Riker sighed and looked Deanna, rubbing his face, "What the hell was that?"

Deanna looked even more disturbed than the man, never taking her eyes off him. "That... he... I felt that he..." she shook her head, "...he recognized us. Were you on the away team?"

Riker shook his head, "No. Worf, Data and a small security team."

"Perhaps... he was connected to the planetary drone while in the pod? It did open communications after the first attempt to get into the cavern." Trio tried rationalize.

"Unless the race used some technology we have no idea how to detect; no." Riker looked as the Starfleet officer wiped the bed and the man's mouth clean with a sanitization block. Fit neatly on the hand but was clumsy getting around the smooth edges of the head rest.

"Will, when he saw us it nearly scared him to death. There must be some explanation, there has to be." Wrapping her arms around herself, still having aftershocks from the intensity of the patient's emotions.

Crusher later forwarded a report to Riker that while the patient's attack was mild due to the timing it was caught, and that it really only happened due to his weakened state, but she recommended not doing something like it again for sometime. Riker sent back his and Trio's own experiences with the encounter. Despite the professionalism in the report, he tried several times trying to convey the utter disbelief, the panic, but would have undoubtedly expanded into superfluous information and kept it as simple as possible, questioning how they can gain information without having this or something like it happening again.

[][]

Ivan yawned widely, bringing a hand to his mouth. The sunlight covered him like the finest quilt, the wind smelt of salt water, a tone of gasoline, fish and finally, the sound of the waves washing up was the finest tune of calm he has heard in nearly a decade.

His eyes snapped open and he put himself into a crouch, quickly scanning his environment.

'Forty-seven NCs, twenty men, nineteen women, eight children. Wind direction going north north east. Between fourteen and sixteen-hundred, unknown day.' Ivan's eyes didn't even blink as he quickly scanned his surroundings, looking for areas of elevation, possible cover, possible combatants. And the only thing he really turned up was that he was on a beach, surrounded by a bunch of scantily clad civvies, there were two small outlets, five tents, and that the parking lot filled with vans, cars and trucks was less than a half a kilometer away.

As Ivan stood up fully, he looked down, saw not only was he standing on a red beach towel, he was clothed in swim trunks and a wife-beater. 'From one crazy figment of sanity to another…' He started pacing towards one of the blocky buildings up the beach, smelt like a restaurant. A fair portion of the local denizens had gathered in front of it, notably to stare at the television, the reception was grainier than the sand.

Ivan found a stool at the bar, looking along it's patrons and what was on for appearances sake, but he was stewing on what he could most recently remember. 'Okay, pod, dunno for how long… wake up, getting interviewed by a couple of people that look like characters from Star Trek, that was beyond trippy, and now… on a beach… and unless this is for the retro-addicts and the war suddenly blew away like a wet fart in a summer breeze-'

"Hey there!" A man declared as he sat on the stool next to Ivan, "Beautiful day we're having, can I buy you a drink?"

Ivan looked him up and down, noting he was very well built and fed. Caucasian. Stubble. Balding head. So instead of responding verbally to the man, Ivan swiveled on his stool and just started glaring at him.

"Uh, I'll take that as a no?" He ushered a waiter, whom took his order and left. "I'm Tobias. You from around here?"

"What year is it?" Ivan asked out of the blue.

"Uh… nineteen-ninety-two."

"Ohh. Wow, I'm negative three years old? Ah, my grandpappy was right, men shouldn't have split the atom. Too many confusing complications"

"Uh did I say 'ninety-two? I meant-"

"Lie to me again and I break your neck." Ivan threatened lowly.

The stranger's face turned from flamboyant, maybe a little awkward, straight to rigid and plain, "Friend, I really don't like threats."

"Listen, 'friend', I've been pounded by fifty kilo's of crazy ass bullshit for what feels like a hundred years… I am confused, out of my element, and _pissed_." The waiter set down a tall tiki glass in front of Ivan's query. "So, I will use the simplest and oldest form of human communication for your convivence: give me what I want, or else I'll get particularly upset and will try to inflict bodily harm." He then gestured to the beach, "And get rid of this crap."

The man stared back at Ivan for several moments before he looked away and nodded, "Please stand up. Computer…" Watching Ivan leave his stool, "…end program."

The restaurant, the beach and the very sky faded into a blocky, black and plain empty room.

Ivan looked around the room, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'So I wasn't dreaming.'

"The year is twenty-three sixty-five, February the twentieth, morning." Tobias remarked, feeling awkward not speaking the star date, going back to the history classes of pre-warp Earth.

Ivan felt like he was having an out of body experience. 'This shit is real.' He rubbed his neck, 'Considering before, I know where, now I know the when, now what next?' Trying to focus, he came to conclusion, something that he wasn't sure he could keep up considering the environment and his own prior joy of the setting… "Where are we?"

"We're on a starship; the USS _Enterprise_. This room is one of the ship's holodecks."

Ivan hated playing dumb, but he knew he needed to get his bearings on just what in the livid hell has happened not only to cause him to be thrown into Gene Roddenberry's wet dream, but for the fact that he has only two reasons onto how he got into the pod in the first place. Those points happen to be jack and shit. 'A little light on the jack if you ask me.' He concluded. "Who are you?"

He smiled, "I'm Lieutenant Tobias Efdran, I serve on this vessel and volunteered to help you with you rehabilitation."

The man out of time nodded slowly and reached his hand out, "Ivan Murphy."

Tobias took the hand and shook it once. "You seem to be taking this very well."

"Looks are deceiving, my man. But I gotta know; how long was on my back while ya'll fixed me up?"

Tobias grimaced painfully, "Nearly two weeks."

"Oh, well that just pales in comparison to the better part of four-hundred years I missed. What's a week here or there?" Ivan spoke without a tone of humor, forcing a joke out of the situation purely out of habit, looking down at the blocks of holodeck under his feet.

Tobias began to pace around Ivan as he said, "We are curious to any kind of information you may have to where we found you."

"'We', we who? And are you asking about the pod I was packed like a sardine into or… what?" Ivan demanded impatiently.

"I work for an organization called Starfleet, we serve as the Federation's exploratory, diplomatic and peacekeeping forces. We found you not only in that pod, but nearly four-thousand lightyears from the Sol system. The _Enterprise_ has been exploring a system and we detected the world you were on, a barren rock even devoid of atmosphere, but had a small cavern under its surface that held the pods you were in, alongside some kind of automated defense drone."

"Pods?" Ivan asked aloud, "There are others? Trapped in them pods like me?"

Tobias stopped in his walk, "Yes, however, no one inside the pods, save you, were alive."

"Were they all like me? Maybe I can ID 'em?" Ivan's gut tangled as he imagined his buddies dying in those damn coffins, alone and hopeless like he damn near did.

"No, the others were different species, many of which we cannot identify."

"Well, that's good I guess, no one else I- wait, 'species'?" Ivan had to catch himself, pretend that he was shocked by the idea of aliens. "You mean by frogs, dogs and other _lifeforms_ from Earth right?"

Tobias blinked at Ivan, but looked away and hissed lowly, Ivan heard a low mumble to himself like what one does when they do something royally stupid. "I was hoping to introduce you slowly to our things like this."

"You're terrible at your job, pal." Ivan forced a smile.

Tobias briefly appeared offended but saw the joke after a moment, shrugging, "Well, you're not wrong." After a pause, "We've uh, us humans I mean," gesturing between the two, "have been a founding member of an interspecies alliance for three-hundred years, there's more than one-hundred and fifty active interstellar governments in the Federation, and nearly as many species other than our own."

Ivan stared at him for several seconds, not out of contemplative difficulty over alien species, he was in the Trek universe for Christ's sake. No, this was him trying to go in for the lowest common denominator, something that can hit home that Ivan was a borderline simpleton: "Any of 'em hot?"

Tobias had to process the answer for a moment before laughing, "Oh there's definitely a couple out there."

Ivan sighed, "Sooo, what now pal? Ya wipe my memory Men in Black style and stick my ass back into some kinda Buck Rogers time-freeze 'til ya'll know what to do with me?"

Tobias quickly replied, "No no! We won't wipe your memory or put you into stasis, if that's what you mean." Looking earnest to ease Ivan's worries, "We're uh I mean, I am trying to start your integration. While our facilities and personnel here are limited, we'd like to at least begin before we transfer you over to Starbase Four-oh-Three."

Ivan visibly relaxed, a smile forming as he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Well, ain't that swell? What next with acclimatizin' the fish out of the bag and into the bowl?"

Tobias briefly looked confused at the metaphor, "Yes, we get you to sick bay, give you some scans, answer some questions, schedule your physical therapy appointments and we will get you some temporary quarters for your stay."

Ivan then gestured between himself and his compatriot, "Know where we can get a change of clothes?"

After taking Ivan to a nearby replomat, Tobias was given a hideous looking adult sized onesie, something he intends to immediately replace as soon as he can. After, he was escorted to sickbay, Ivan's chest momentarily felt like it was under an elephant's heel as he saw Beverly Crusher behind a desk.

She looked up and smiled politely, "Please, come in. Take a seat. Feeling well?"

"Feeling… flabby. Like I've gained eighteen kilos." Ivan explained, gesturing to his far more deteriorated mushiness around his core. Sitting in front of the chief medical officer's desk, he continued, "Oh and I think it's finally happened. I've gone insane." Gesturing to the sick bay with both arms, "I mean, we're in a _spaceship_ , God knows how far from Earth, there's aliens, and the guy out their pulled a damn sunny beach out of his ass." He wasn't exactly overshooting his feelings, still feeling that familiar 'out of body' lack of sense since the moment he woke until now.

Crusher nodded, "That's understandable from your perspective. Tobias?" She asked behind Ivan, where said Starfleet man walked near the desk.

"Doctor Crusher, this is Ivan Murphy. Ivan, this is our most senior medical officer on the _Enterprise_ , and will be able to cure anything from a headache to Ankaran Flu."

The doctor scoffed at him but smiled broadly, "Thank you lieutenant, I think that's quite enough."

The man left, Ivan quickly asked, "Alrighty hun, where do we start first?"

"I insist you call me doctor." She looked perturbed at this man's choice of words for her, "But to answer your question; where were you born?" Taking out a pad and began tapping her fingers against its surface.

"Jackson, Mississippi."

"When?"

"January twelfth, nineteen-ninety-five."

Beverly looked up at Ivan a moment to see any detection of humor or sarcasm. "You were born in the Eugenics war?"

Ivan frowned, recalling Khan, his little gang of megalomaniacal superhumans, before he scoffed, "Worse. Clinton administration."

"Clinton? Who's that?"

"President? United States? Boinked anything that resembled a woman?"

She blinked in surprise, "Do you have any recollection of the war at all? Parents? Schools? Anything like that? What about the Third World War?"

"Now _that_ I have a freight full of information, babe. Chinese invading the US, EU invading the Russians and Middle East, India… nuked someone while they also nuked India, can't remember who though."

Ivan literally counted the conflicts off his fingers, which reminded Beverly as she saw the stubby pinky, cut off almost to the base of his knuckle on his right hand. "Is that how you lost your little finger?"

Ivan nodded, "In so many words; yup. Lost a lot more stuff than that. Safety, security, free refills at sit-down restaurants, the list goes on."

Beverly quickly began writing all this down, knowing for certain that it conflicted with her own knowledge of time. Nodding, she asked, "How's your appetite? Are you feeling thirsty?"

"Dunno." He shrugged, "Don't even know how I got this tubby doin' nothin'." Gesturing to his gut.

"Our nutritional feed may have been overly generous to your metabolism. We'll be able to sort out your weight and muscle mass in physical therapy." Beverly bit a lip, asking, "Any known instances of psychological issues in your family? Depression, degenerative diseases, mental illness?"

Ivan smiled and huffed as he replied, "I had an uncle that did yoga."

Beverly didn't get the reference nor the joke, deciding to continue with, "In our initial scans, we noticed an… issue with your lungs. Did you smoke any recreational substances?"

"Just like… what? Twenty cigarettes a day since I was seventeen. The occasional whiff of gunpowder, teargas… oh! There was the burning building or fifty."

Doctor Crusher professionally ignored his comments and wrote down, 'Tabaco?' "Now, what's the last thing you remember before being in the pod?"

Ivan paused, his sarcastic jive stopping suddenly as if it had hit a brick wall. "A mission. It was accomplished. I was… under a tree…" Ivan's brow furrowed, trying to remember it all, the smaller bits he wanted to tell, to recall, "I… it started snowing… then…" he looked back up, "just… blue…"

"The color?"

"Yeah, spotty with black… what the hell was I lookin' at?"

"We'll try to figure it out." Beverly smiled. "Other than the… lung problem, you look to be good health. Just some dieting, some exercise, and you'll be the picture of health."

Ivan forced his thoughts from remembering and nodded, "Good, good, uh… thank you doc."

Beverly stood, gesturing to the door, "A member of security will escort you to our councilor. Have a good day."

Ivan meekly nodded and a smiled as he left out the door, only to see directly across it a man standing dressed in a yellow uniform, the item held at his hip clearly a weapon, a hand phaser. The man smiled at Ivan, pointing with his whole arm down the hall. "This way, sir."

Ivan wordlessly followed his instructions, following his escort's instruction to a turbolift, where said crewman ordered the futuristic elevator, "Deck Eight."

Ivan looked over his non-salaried compatriot, notably the phaser. Of course, there was that nagging, long drilled instinct telling him not to stare at a fucking weapon and make the guy who has it twitchy, but Ivan was going through, what can be surmised at least commonly, a 'fangasm', his mind running through all the crazy stuff that he can remember on television with phasers, disruptors, crazy aliens and now he was going to meet Dianna Trio!

The security personnel looked on and saw this stranger, stuck in time for centuries, staring at his hip with what Ivan himself can describe as a 'shit-eating-grin', feeling particularly uncomfortable, he asked, "Sir? Are you alright?"

Ivan looked up at him and nodded, "Fine, quite fine." Turning back to the front of the tube, still smiling.

[][][]

Councilor Troi was quickly reviewing the notes that Beverly had sent, their guest being guided the long way around to afford her some time to gather her bearings. While her empathic abilities are important to her duties, knowledge of the people in question was key.

'Possible alternate timeline?' Deanna blinked at that. They introduced every test to this man for any kind of anomaly, including quantum, so how can this be? Regardless, she read the details and was definitely going to be asking about them, and not too soon as the security officer that escorted the newcomer came in, made the introductions between the herself and Ivan.

It was hard to focus on the ensign, Ivan's emotional torrent beat her empathic senses like a drum. Admiration, arousal, and that all too fatal sensation of familiarity. Ivan was swarthy, with green eyes but whether he was completely bald due to being in the pod or was naturally like this, was devoid of hair on his head or face.

Quickly sitting down, Dianna asked, "How are you today?"

"All over the place would be a good phrase. Was told that there were aliens, we're on a spaceship, holographic beaches… not the usual Tuesday."

Ivan recognized that the next five minutes of conversation as the atypical 'small-talk' used to relax a given patron. Pets, favorite foods, shit along those lines, plus the irregular addition of the 'how do you like the ship' or 'how do you feel with the aliens/space/holograms'.

Ivan gave his answers, but not in too much detail or much thought on the subject, recalling that the Starfleet officer before him doesn't so much talk as she does feel, keeping as emotionally bland and unprovocative as Ivan possibly could.

Dianna Trio noticed this but decided not to verbally confirm or deny if it was intentional from the man, noting that Ivan could very well be this emotionally withdrawn with everyone else, but that maybe switching to something a little closer to home would give at least something to read.

"So, I understand that you fought in world war three?"

'There it is…' Trio felt a distinct flutter of emotions, at first the usual symptoms of high-stress encounters; fear, anger, sadness, shame, many of the typical sensations, but then there was something else, something profoundly deeper and more intimate, a resounding melancholy that bordered on depression. Then, those barriers of emotive protection were back up and he smiled, "Oh, so that's what all that yellin' was." He then nodded, "Yes, though… I dunno if we won or… well…" Ivan sighed, "It doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"You had family." The councilor lamented.

Ivan suddenly looked ashamed, "Yeah. A sister. Last time I saw her was on a European Union boat to Spain. She… uh…" He scoffed lightly, "What's the point in holding back? I made her get on that damn ship and well, a few words were said that I didn't really mind and the fact that evening was the last time I was with her is a bit… upsetting."

"I understand." He's not exactly amiss about the war being over, it's his sibling, long lost to time which is really eating at him. "What was her name?"

"Tina." Ivan's false smile was long gone, he was looking down, between two odd points on the floor away from the councilor, focusing on keeping his emotions from coming to the surface.

"You sent her to this 'Union' to be safe?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm sure she was. Take comfort in the fact that you did anything and everything to protect your family. Regardless of how she may have felt towards you, you loved her." Trio smiled at him.

Ivan sat still for a moment, before he looked back up, "Yeah…" Trio felt that he wasn't yet capable of mourning so soon after this realization. "Yes, you're right."

Dianna moved along with her questions, "So, this war…?"

Ivan sat up much straighter as he explained: "Well, I was only fifteen when it began, so sue me if I ain't a meister, but from what I can remember, President Florez surrendered a shit ton of the west coast to the Chinese. Something was annexed, lots of the states didn't agree with the government, Europeans were going nuts and started running amok, I get recruited by the Southern Militia right about when Brazil was going screwy for South and Latin America when I turned sixteen… everyone was fightin' everyone what it felt like. Ten years later, now, I'm here." He sat back lazily in his chair, "Fuckin' paradise."

"I know you feel as if circumstances are very overwhelming for you, but understand that we must all do the best with what is given to us."

"I can make a shit ton of best with this," He gestured to the room, "That's the problem. I'm out of the frying pan and into metaphorical Eden. What's next on this game of Twenty-Q?"

Dianna grimaced slightly, "I'm sorry if I'm agitating you emotionally with these questions, but we really do need their answers."

Ivan shrugged, "Hun, we all got a job, I can't blame you for needing some decent info on my part. Say, you wouldn't mind if I asked some questions would ya? Just a couple, please."

"Of course."

"Well, I heard a bit of a thing from the doctor? Red head? Can't remember her name…" 'Ah, now there's a lie.' Trio thought. "terrible with names." Ivan continued, "Anyways, she mentioned something called the 'Eugenics Wars'? And how I was born in it? Mind giving me the run down?"

The woman explained what Ivan generally knew. Trek really didn't go into much detail about the actual war other then anything rhyming with Khan. Unless there was an episode he missed, he was a kid when he saw what felt like the entire franchise to his parents, so may have missed something important here or there. "Nope, nothing like that was happening with me, though the frenchies were rumored to be growing super humans for their soldiers, maybe our times are close, but somehow different?"

"Anything else you would like to know before we continue?"

"Uh yes, but this is a bit personal; wouldn't happen to know where I can get a smoke?"

-]

'My final report of Ivan Murphy: recommend intensive psychological reconditioning. Possible high degree of post traumatic stress will cause integration in society very difficult. Otherwise, he seems cooperative, but I cannot shake the feeling he has been withholding something from me. Perhaps it is merely the shock of the situation and will come forward when he feels he's safe and comfortable.'

Dianna clicked the padd off and rubbed her forehead. The last month ever since the _Enterprise_ surveyed that world, she's been having a foreboding feeling of… being watched, observed… something agitating the very edge of her senses. It wasn't from their new guest, at least not directly, but it feels too oddly close together to be a coincidence.

[][][]

"Replicator." Ivan spoke to the console in his quarters, hearing a small beep in response. "Uhhh, I dunno. Chicken curry? Spicy?"

The machine quickly responded with, "There are currently five hundred and seventy three available kinds of curry and fifty levels of seasonings that are safely digestible for human physiology. Shall I give you the list?"

"Uh, no. I'm bored, not _that_ bored. Let me think… narrow down the list to the top three most commonly ordered stuff?" It did as it was commanded, and he selected 'traditional Indian curry', steamed chicken and a 'red alert' spiciness. He took the plate and sniffed at its contents, the smile on his face couldn't get any wider. Taking his new bounty, sat in front of the computer screen and access the historical archive, searching for 'post-world war three' material. Turns out, a lot of the stuff Ivan went through in the span of a decade was somehow extended to when Cochrane's first warp test, nearly thirty damn years.

'It attracted the attention of the Vulcans blah blah blah who then occupied a swathe of Montana for nearly five weeks blah blah… wait a cotton pickin' minute…' Ivan set down his nearly finished plate of curry and stared at the words, 'a Vulcan expeditionary force occupied a swathe of Montana for nearly five weeks searching for the presence of Allied forces, believing Cochrane's warp ship was the signature of an enemy vessel…'

…

" **WHAT**?!" Ivan yelled so loud that he started violently coughing. After his fit was through, "Computer! Confirm whether or not this piece of literature is historically confirmed fact and not some crazy bit of fiction."

"Verified as historically accurate." The machine replied.

Ivan sighed quietly, 'Guess this universe isn't actually the one I thought I was in.' Quickly taking up the pad and starting his reeducation in earnest.

'…having been searching for the Vulcan expedition in the area for some time, an Allied armada consisting mostly of elements of the Andorian Imperial Navy, Tellar Defense Force, and the Xyrillian Third Battle-Flotilla. Allied forces repelled the ill-equipped occupation force and quickly set up communications with human governments, the Andorians quickly becoming a patron of mankind's uplift to the interstellar community after the truce between the Vulcan Sovereignty and the Free States, establishing the Neutral Zone that would last for near a hundred years.'

"Woof, this is trippy." 'The United Earth Government launched its first foray into what was loosely considered the Commonwealth, a deteriorating husk of what remained of the Alliance that rose to oppose Vulcan aggression. Captain Archer taking upon the mission of establishing contact with the unknown with Earth's first Warp-Five ship.'

"At least something is the same." He scoffed, recalling that particular show, its heinous earlier seasons and glorious last.

However, as an advent master of what can be considered an alternate reality; he searched 'Romulan' and 'Star Empire' with no results. The Romulan people, having been of Vulcan origin, never fled their homeworld, instead, the 'Raptors' conquered Vulcan, sending Surak's teachings underground, not wiping them out but definitely not letting the philosophy find fertile enough ground to grow.

"Shit, what did that change with Spock?"

"Restate question."

"Uhhh, Starfleet record of one Vulcan named Spock."

'A Vulcan of Martian descent, Ambassador Spock was-' "Whoa honey! Martians?! Seriously?!"

'Vulcans that follow the philosophy of Surak migrated from the Vulcan Sovereignty to the Martian colony after the Vulcan agreed to become a protectorate of the Coalition of Worlds, thus earning them the prevalent though inaccurate nomenclature of Martians.'

"Oh… cool. Badass actually. They differ yet? The Vulcans and Martians?"

'Martians seem to have had a notable decrease in muscle mass due to the differing gravitational pull of their adopted homeworld in recent generations.'

"Ah, that's 'cause the Romulans departed Vulcan thousands of years before sliced bread was even a thing. Sorry hun, continue with the readin'."

This odd session of education kept on for nearly nine hours, until the door to his quarters unlocked and in strode in a security officer while he was in the middle of studying the far more recent Cardassian War.

"Sir? I am here to escort you to the cargo bay."

Ivan blearily blinked his eyes, "Shit, what time is it?"

"Ten-hundred hours." Spotting a collection of whiskey glasses on the counter in front of the couch, stacked up in a triangle, he continued with, "You should recycle those in the replicator when we get back. Please, this way sir."

Ivan stood up and followed the man out, "Shit, I pulled an all nighter and wasn't even studying for a test… by the way, I'm not sure I was exposed to radioactive waste while sleeping or something, but none of the stuff I ordered I could get drunk from. Tasted like the stuff I wanted without any of the benefits."

"Yes sir, the replicators on board cannot produce true alcohol. It uses something called synthahol, a substitute that manages to reproduce the taste and only mild effects."

"Wait, we're on a boat, right? You guys gotta have a still somewhere that makes the real thing! That's fucking naval tradition for Christ's sake!" Suddenly Ivan looked exceptionally worried, "How the hell am I gunna get any sleep past a couple hours?!"

"We can always take you to sick bay if you're having trouble sleeping."

"Later. We got a job to… by the way, what do you need me to do in the cargo bay? Pull my weight?"

The man smiled, "No sir, I believe it has to do with an object we found with you."

Ivan was silent. Nervousness shrunk his guts to a knot. It was a simple thing to explain what he knew before they pulled him out of the pod, but he doesn't even know how he got in the damn thing to begin with. Taking a turbo lift down… or up, he couldn't tell, to another deck, escorted to another, far larger room and taken down a ladder.

He saw a trio of figures looming over a fleshy, man sized pod, looking as if it was browning from rot, certainly smelled like it; Deanna Troi, Jordi La Forge and Data, the latter two were holding tricorders.

"Hello Ivan, does this look recognizable at all?" Councilor Troi asked.

The thing looked like a pea-pod in its general shape, but larger at its core, and the surface, while from a distance looked soft and fleshly, had a certain rigidness that seemed like plastic rather than meat. Pressing his palm into it and seeing the carved open capsule where he once resided drove an icy pike through his soul. "Only the inside really. Imagined it was smaller."

Trio picked up on his distress, "If you want, we can send you back to your quarters and forward images-"

"Hell no, I'd rather be stuck in a room talking about the world's smelliest coffin rather than come down with cabin fever in that guest room." Ivan smiled.

Geordi looked over Ivan, as if expecting some kind of bizarre and normality, "Do you remember being linked to this thing at all? Some intravenous link, an ambilocal connection of some kind, anything at all?"

"I had a dream someone stuck me with a catheter, wouldn't happen to have any idea if it was before or after you picked me up?" Ivan laughed, trying to make some light about the situation.

"What's a catheter?" Geordi asked.

"A medical device, placed in into a bodily cavity often to relieve the body of waste fluids in the early twenty-first century." Data informed almost as encyclopedically as the ship's computer.

"Uhhh, no, we don't have anything to do with… that. What about bodily sensations that seemed odd? We can't find any clue how this machine's life support kept you alive longer than your air supply that was sealed in with you."

"No, nothing… wait, some ticklish stuff around my feet, but got painful when it crawled up to my gut." Ivan's face scrunched in a confused scowl. "How long do ya'll think I was in it?"

Data quickly answered with, "Unknown, though we do believe that it was possibly in excess of three months at least."

"Wait… how the hell can I be from the twenty-first century, but only be in that pod for a few months?" Ivan glared at said pod.

"That is only what forensics of ground disturbance and possible gravimetric disruption can tell." Data finished with, "Considering the environment's lack of atmosphere and stable orbit; it may be possible-"

Ivan's initially passive expression turned furious and he yelled out, "FUCK!"

Data looked confused, "I apologize if I offended-"

"Even with the science fiction's most competently incompetent crew of explorers, I ain't got no answers?!" His yells directed at the pod, "You…! I'm gunna find who stuck me in you, and then! Oh boy! Their screams are gunna echo from here to kingdom come!" He kicked the pod.

The trinity was completely astonished by the naked display of aggression from a human. Troi responded quickly after the surprise, "Ivan, please! Control yourself!"

"Control will do exactly didly! To hell with this damn thing! I'll send its makers screaming to old scratch when I get my hands on them! I'll…" Ivan's fury quieted in an eyeblink, seeing him reach for a nearby cargo container to steady himself, "Sorry, sorry… gunna take a breather… what about ships or aliens dropping me off? Like space tracks? Any sign of them?"

Data then confirmed his theory with "We have detected the degradation of a subspace corridor several light seconds out of the star-system, and due to the unique gravitational eddies from the nearby sun, it was likely to have been constructed artificially."

"Okay… i'm just gunna nod my head and pretend I understood what half of that meant… by the way, you an alien or something?" Ivan asked.

Data shook his head, "I am an android, a machine meant to-"

"You had me at android man, I read enough Isaac Asimov to know the general gist of a synthetic lifeform. It ain't nothin' but a thing compared to the recent happenin's." Ivan shrugged, managing to regain a bit of balance. "Sorry I don't have any more information for ya, but man, I was only trapped in the damn thing, I didn't build it."

"'It is not nothin' but a thing'." Data repeated robotically.

Ivan nodded and smiled, and looked to the councilor, "Please, unless ya need me for somethin' else, I'd rather walk around some then get locked back in my room for timeout."

Deanna smiled, "Actually, I'm going to escort you to meet with our ship's captain."

Ivan's stomach momentarily fluttered in excitement but controlled it. Forcing a sense of frustration that he wasn't too sure was convincing to the empath in the room, "If I had a nickel for every time I was escorted in this boat, I'd have a quarter by now…" Ivan sighed.

[][[[]

"Come!" Jean-Luc Picard ordered, hearing his ready-room's door chime. Looking up from his padd as a security officer escorted in the mystery of the last month.

The captain stood and walked to the pair, "Good day, Ivan. I was hoping to have a small chat with you."

Ivan couldn't help but smile. This was _the_ Jean-Luc Picard of the _USS Enterprise-D_! How can he not be elated? "Good, conversation is one of my favorite hobbies, where shall we begin?" He clapped his hands together.

"Thank you, Ensign." Dismissing the officer behind Ivan, and after seeing him leave, gestured to the chair in front of the desk, "I am Captain Picard of the Enterprise. Please."

Taking a seat, Ivan asked, "So what's on the agenda? I answered what I could with the organic canister I was found in."

Picard mentioned, "Nothing related to where we found you, but where you maybe going." He walked over to the nearby replicator, "Tea, Earl-Grey, hot." The machine hummed with life as it conjured the beverage, "Would you like anything?"

"Water, thank you."

Giving Ivan the glass, Picard sat behind the desk and asked, "We noticed that you were utilizing our ship's library database."

Ivan blinked, concerned he may have unintentionally stepped on someone's toes, "Yes, I apologize if it was-"

Picard shook his head, "I approve. Our attempt to slowly reintegrate you to the current to standard protocols were insufficient and, apparently, unneeded. You have reacted very well to the new times."

"How is Lieutenant Tobias, by the way? Hope he still has his day job."

Picard gave a small smile, "Yes. We don't have any reintegration personnel on this vessel and did the best studying he could when he volunteered to try on you."

"How did he choose his time, for the holo-beach thing?"

"From what I can remember, it was due to both an incident in sickbay and our best estimates of its reference."

'The singing of Alice in Chains…' Ivan concluded, "Well, I didn't exactly have my birth certificate on me."

"I am, however, slightly concerned on a number of searches with the database." He typed up something with the desk's computer and turned it around to face Ivan. The words 'Romulan. Star Empire. Spock. Martians', then there was his overall timeline coverage.

Ivan felt like a retard. Of course, they would still continue to watch him and know what he did with their shit. "Oh… yes… ya know it's against twenty-first century etiquette to look up another man's browser history. It just ain't kosher."

"Please, explain these." Picard seemed more irritated then humored.

"Uhhh Romulans… a basketball team from back home. Rowlet Romulans. They were trying to spell Romans but made a spelling error and it stuck." Ivan sipped at his water nervously. "The Star Empire thing was just me trying to figure out if there was any crazy evil space aliens or something, someone to keep an eye out for in space."

Picard didn't look convinced, "I see. How did you know of Ambassador Spock?"

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…' "Uh, I dunno. I think I might have come across it as a suggested topic of 'S's after 'Star' Empire came up with diddly." Ivan honestly wasn't sure if suggestions for searches was a thing with the computer. "I thought it was a futuristic curse word or something. The Martians came after I read about Spock. Good man."

Picard nodded and turned the computer around, "Thank you. Now… I've received a message from the Daystrom Institute to cover over pre-Eugenics War history subjects they haven't managed to uncover."

"But I didn't think our times were the same." Ivan spoke aloud.

"They'll be able to find out exactly _how_ different they are. A small ship is being sent to Starbase Four-oh-Three which will then be arranged to take you back to Earth, you'll have-"

Ivan instantly sat up, fear alight in his eyes, "I'm not going back to Earth."

Picard, in turn, looked astonished at the declaration, "Earth is no longer the place you knew, it's paradise, there is no longer any war, hunger or-"

"I don't care, I ain't going back." Ivan seemed betwixt panic and rage, "I'd rather choke on the moon's vacuum before setting a single foot on that fuckin' planet!"

Picard was half tempted to recall an officer from the bridge but withheld. He instead lifted a hand, "Please, stay calm, I have little doubt your preference for staying away from Earth can be appeased. I will send word to the Institute."

Ivan relaxed into the chair, sighing "Good. I'm sorry, I… don't think I'm strong enough to stomach Earth."

"Why? What made you afraid of returning home?"

Ivan sat silently, staring at his lap. "Captain, it's… difficult to explain… I did a lot of things on that ball of mud I'm not proud of. I just learned that I was in the future, it was all pointless. Not a lot of the folks I cared for lived until the end, and no one I know from then is alive now and it seemingly never happened in the first damn place." He looked back up, "I just… don't think I can go back. It'd be an insult to my friends, my family, and lastly myself. I cannot go home."

Picard kept a passive face, "I see. Would you like to see the councilor after this?"

"No." Ivan shook his head, "I'm _really_ sorry, captain. This came out of nowhere."

Picard gave a firm nod, "I understand. However, this may make what I must say easier for you. We've done a search for your family. Genetically, you have relatives living on Mars." Picking up the padd and reading: "Great, great, great, great, grandnephew. Haffer Murphy."

"Really? Dear God…" 'So sis had a family in this timeline?' "Wait, aren't Vulc- I mean Martians living there?"

"Yes, turns out you may have an extended family of Martians."

Ivan smiled radiantly, "Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!"

[][][]

"Yes, we will forward your shuttle from the Starbase to Olympia. Our offices on Mars are more than capable of finishing your program and applying you not only for the Daystrom Institute, but possibly for Federation citizenship!" A bubbly office woman smiled happily to Ivan, "We will look forward to your visit and hope you have an excellent day, goodbye!" The message ended.

Ivan clicked a button bellow the screen and smiled. While it would take a week to get another message to the Federation and receive a response in turn, he was already thinking of sending one to his grandnephew, if anything, to at least talk to some family and possibly let him know he may visit him, briefly in time.

Before he could begin writing, a chime rung at his door. "Who is it?"

"It's Tobias. You wanna head over to Ten-Forward?"

Ivan blinked, "Hell yes! That the bar with the real booze?" Picking up a shirt and nearly tripping as he awkwardly sprinted while getting dressed.

Leaving his quarters and following his acquaintance's lead, said blue-uniformed lieutenant nodded, "Absolutely. You alright? You look… I dunno, bedazzled?"

"Ya caught me after I got a video from them Daystrom fellas. I got some information about my family from 'em and will send him a message as soon as I get back. You wouldn't happen to know if my request to be let out of confinement without escort has been looked at or not?"

"No, but if I find any command staff on duty, I'll ask them." Tobias smiled.

"Been meanin' to ask; got any family? Siblin's? Wife? Kids?"

"C'mon man! I'm only twenty-five, got plenty of time to worry about family later. I have an older brother, Vincent, he's still living on Earth. Has a job working with setting up fusion reactors."

"Really? Cold-fusion? Room-temperature stuff?"

"No, just plain old hot as hell fusion. You've been to Ten-Forward yet?"

"Negative sir, only been to the gym and sick bay. Why you guys so paranoid about me?"

"Well, we're nervous about any long-term contaminants or programming that may have been planted by your captors. The technology we found you with was beyond bizarre and anything we have encountered."

"Still, how long has my dumbass been here? How long will I have to be here without an incident to leave my room without a chaperone?"

"Please, be patient, if it isn't soon, you will definitely be able to have your way about when-"

"I'm at the station, yeah yeah…" Ivan sighed.

As the two passed the doors of the shipboard bar, Ivan stopped briefly as he spotted a certain Klingon Starfleet officer sitting at a table looming over a padd.

"My man, what the hell is that?" Ivan tried to sound perturbed, but he sounded more interested.

Tobias grimaced, "That is our chief tactical officer. He's a Klingon, he can rip you in half down the middle if you ask that any louder."

"Oh sorry. So _that's_ a Klingon? The species of Viking-Samurai _IN SPACE_ …" He added dramatically flaring his hands open, "Mind if I get a whiskey and I just say hi?"

"Actually, he _really_ likes his privacy and might not appreciate it if we intrude."

"C'mon, don't look so nervous. If the dragon must be met, bring a gift. Bar tender?"

A dark-skinned woman in robes and a weird hat came over where the two lounged. "Evening, boys." She smiled, "What can I get you?"

"Whiskey. Cheap. If it doesn't make me blind in one eye, I won't give a tip." Ivan smiled eagerly. "Also, something a cup of… let's say prune juice."

"I'll have just a raktajino please, I'll be on duty in an hour."

"Shit pal, why you spending your time to take a man out ya barely know before work?" Ivan grimaced quizzically.

Tobias smiled, "I'd like to know you. Plus, I owe you due to me fracking up my beach mission."

Ivan gave a half smile, "Yeah… sorry for threatnin' ya."

Tobias chuckled, "Don't worry about it. If I was wearing a yellow-shirt, I may have been a bit worried."

As Guinan placed her tray of beverages in front of the pair, she asked, "Haven't see you around here, you that man they pulled out of the pod?"

Ivan nodded, "Yeeeup. That's me. I'm Ivan, to what goddess are you to deliver such sweet Ambrose to these lips?" He winked after he brought his glass of whiskey to his nose and breathed in, long and deep.

"I'm Guinan, just a bartender. But you look at me like you already knew that."

"A bartender behind the bar? Nooo, you caught me on that one." Shooting down his double of whiskey, pointing down, "Oh lordy. That's perfect…" Coughing into his fist.

Tobias bug eyed his drinking companion, "Wow, you have a problem…"

"Eh, don't we all. I needed that to do this." Taking the glass of juice and leaving the bar for Worf's table.

Approaching the sitting Klingon, Ivan said aloud when he was several paces away, "Heard you were one of the folk that got me out of the pod before I starved to death."

Worf looked towards the newcomer eyeing him up and down, before looking back to his padd. "I was indeed."

"As is tradition, at least in the twenty-first century, I've got you a drink." Ivan placed the glass on the table.

Worf eyed it wearily over the padd, "What is it?"

"An old human beverage meant for the bravest of souls." Ivan smiled.

The Earth-raised Klingon was suddenly very curious, setting the padd aside and sipping from the glass. His eyes twinkled briefly in joy, before he looked back the human.

"Prune juice." Ivan tittered, knowing what he'd ask.

"A warrior's drink." He smiled.

"Glad you liked it. Thanks again uh…?" Ivan began to move his hand forward to shake his but then moved it from side to side in faux confusion.

"Lieutenant Worf." He gripped Ivan's hand so firmly, the human thought he'd pissed him.

"Ivan Murphy. I was told you were a Klingon, read about them a bit. Positivly interestin', particularly in how they've kept traditions for over a thousand years since ya'll founded your empire."

As Worf began to explain how it all began with Kahless the Unforgettable, Guinan was surprised at the Klingon's openness. Tobias, however, was dumbfounded. "H-how?" The man asked aloud.

Guinan herself wasn't certain, she shrugged, "Maybe he's just good with Klingons."

Tobias scoffed, "A barbaric human and an Earth-raised Klingon. A match made in heaven." Grimacing, slightly regretting what he said.

The alien barkeep smiled, "Maybe not heaven, but they're more compatible then you might think." Taking up the tray, "Better drink that coffee before it gets cold."

[][][]

"Yes, while I may be busy at your estimated arrival time, it would be most agreeable for you to visit." A blue-eyed, thin-haired, pointy eared hybrid spoke plainly, "If you goto my neighbor's, I am confident he will prove an able host until I return. I look forward to your coming, goodbye."

'Another week to go…' Ivan shook his head. 'Then another week to get to the fucking space station… then Christ know how long to get to Mars… goddamn... They might as well have froze me… it would have at least spared me the chance of going full on _Shining_ in this ship.' Standing up from the bed, he moved over to the computer, harshly pushing in a key. "Let it be logged; I am making my way down to Ten-Forward. I had the sudden urge to start writing a book with the words 'All work and no play make Ivan go bananas'."

He left his quarters, proceeded to a turbo lift and ordered, "Deck Ten." As he waited, he rubbed his temples, "Maybe some exercise will get rid of this headache… And I'm talking to myself again… it's finally happened; I've gone insan-"

Suddenly kissing the other side of the turbolift at five miles per hour, Ivan began to hastily yell, "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Even after the event stopped, he still quietly cursed as he sat up from the ground, "Fuck… fuck… fuck… these assholes consider this shit their job? Nope. Ain't a chance in hell with joinin' Starfleet unless they pay me in blonde Playboy bimbos every week." Standing back up, he tried to open the 'Lift doors by hand, only to have them partially opened, just enough to possibly slip through. Despite his recent regime of weighted pushups, he knew he wasn't back to one-hundred percent and hissed at the amount of effort he exerted only for so little. "Okay, okay… gunna just slip on through this thing… countless single, desperate female organisms on the… ooooffff… hah, other side." Managing to slip on through before he fell out of the crevice, walking down the passageway "Speaking of single organisms… Guinan? Help?"

What he saw was a collection of bridge crew consisting of Picard, Riker and Worf, flanking another pair, that being Guinan, hands out like claws against a Starfleet uniformed Q, standing on high with the bar's rafters, hand extended out towards the bartender.

"Murphy?" Riker turned when he heard the opposing doors of Ten-Forward open.

Ivan's gaze was focused on the omnipotent being, however. Inattentive of his fellow mortals as he walked into the arena, "You!" He declared and pointed at Q as he marched. "Send me back you scum-sucking son of a bitch!"

Q looked curiously at the stomping primate, "And who might you be?" Turning back towards Picard as he asked, "Oh dear captain, what cave did you pick this-?"

Ivan was on him faster then even he expected, smashing a fist across the manifested demigod's jaw, trying to reach for the creature's throat as he yelled, "SEND ME BACK YOU BASTARD!" He nearly foamed at mouth.

Q merely glimpsed at the time-lost human and in a tiny flash of light, what was launched back into one of Ten-Forward's tables wasn't the man the dare assault a superior being. Riker and Worf rushed to the commotion, expecting a charred corpse, a twisted and maligned blight of flesh as the only remains. What came out of the smoking clothes, slowly and with no small amount of effort, was a chimpanzee, short, long armed, short legged and hairy from head to toe, hooting and cooing in dazed pain.

"Such an impudent wretch. For what purpose did you bring it, captain?" Q spat as he caressed his cheek. "Enough of these creatures. They are not the reason for my being here…"

[][]

It's a damn thing; pre-sapience. Ivan was confident he was more of a drinker rather than a thinker, but this was…

'What was I thinking about?'

' **A pun involving drinking and thinking.** '

'Ah yes! Ah… wait… I'm startin' to think better now… who… wait, where in the fuck am I?'

' **There's no word for it in your mind. A time so small and fast, that one can't even measure it in the billionionth decimal of a second.** '

'… you are starting to damage my calm.'

' **Firefly reference. Cute.** '

'Wait, you know Firefly? You from my… wait, you a Q?'

' **No. Q don't exist where you're from.** '

Ivan thought a moment… something that seemed clearer by the minute. The place he existed in was without sight, sound, touch or taste… yet existing without a brain seemed to make thinking… powerful… critical to how he… breathed? No… no lungs, no blood for oxygen… not breath… it's more important then that. 'Am I dead?'

' **Were you ever alive?** '

'Don't do this shit with me man, I like my weird ass revelations minus the existential crisis…'

' **Yes, you are alive. You are, however, a monkey. Ape, technically.** '

'Yes, well, we do the best with what we can, but I-'

' **No, I mean you are literally a chimpanzee.** '

'I know. I can't make some damn light around here? To what stick in the mud am I talking to?'

' **You already know my name**.'

'Sure, sure… hey God? Yeah, its me Margaret, and I've had something weird to me happen in the middle of the night…'

' **Seriously?** '

'C'mon Hoss, don't give me the run around.'

Ivan _felt_ the presence's mood… face palm? ' **Look, I don't know what I'm doing here. I hope it'll end differently, but… Ivy, I wasn't programmed for this kind of guano. I did my shit, something exploded and now I'm here. Play ball with me, alright?'**

'Okay hun, I don't know why I'm here, what got me in that pod, what you want or who you are. Cry me a river or give me some answers.'

Ivan was afraid he pissed the presence off and it left him for several moments, before it replied, ' **Q won't give you anymore trouble. Neither he, nor the Continuum, but don't go out of your way to piss him off. He can still frak with what your standing on, the air you breathe and other stuff. This, and I'll give you another set of gifts. But there is a price to pay.** '

[][][]

"Holy fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck… what?" Ivan sprang up out of the biobed like his ass was on fire. Stumbling through the sick-bay in panic and tripped over a hover-tray filled with vials and hyposprays.

As one of the medical staff ran over to him, yelling out, "Calm down! Sir! It's alright?"

Ivan stared at her with eyes the size of dinner plates, "What the fu-fucking shit covered diaphoretic, nun munching scrotum licking…" he suddenly felt very dizzy, putting a hand on his forehead to grasp at near non-existent hair to try and focus, closing his eyes, "Oh god… what… what happened?"

"Mister Murphy, please, let's get you over to the bed… that's right, nice and easy…" She soothed as she guided him over to the medical berth. "Now, lay down. I'll get a blanket to cover you."

God, he was tired… doing as he was told, Ivan must've passed out again when he his head hit the pillow.

"Mister Murphy?"

Ivan sprung back up, far tamer however, and stood near his bed and as saw Riker and Tobias several paces away. "Ah… alright. Good. Uh, what happened?"

Riker looked to the side slightly, "We're not sure. After our confrontation with Q, the _Enterprise_ was transported seven thousand light-years away. That was _after_ you were turned into monkey. We don't know when he turned you back, but Q had transformed you back into a human near sick-bay, you were having a stroke."

Ivan peered downwards, "Dear God…" 'It's the Borg episode…'

"You mind wrapping yourself with the blanket?"

Not thinking twice about the suggestion, Ivan wrapped his bare lower half in the fabric, "How long has it been?"

"Nearly twelve hours." Riker said. "Do you think after you get some clothes that you can see the captain?"

Ivan looked startled, "What? Why?"

"Answering a few questions." Riker replied coldly. "Get dressed. Tobias will escort you up."

The executive officer left quickly and without another word, leaving on him and Tobias in the Sick Bay. "So, am I going back to my quarters? Get some clothing?"

"No. Until your talk with the captain, I am to escort you. We'll get your clothes here, then head on up. _Then_ , you're confined to the brig."

Ivan stared down his compatriot, "Why?"

Tobias shrugged. "C'mon. We got to get a move on."

Ivan clenched his teeth nervously.

[][][][]

"Please, sit down." Picard gestured to the chair nearest to the ready-room's table.

"Captain, I'm afraid to goto sleep if I sit. Respectfully, I'd greatly prefer standing." Ivan tried to stand as straight and speak as clearly as he could.

Picard nodded, beginning to walk around the other end of the table when he planted both hands on its surface and stated, "You knew about Q. Knew him."

Ivan nodded, unable to look him in the eye as he replied, "Yes."

"How?"

Ivan wasn't sure what he should say, what he shouldn't. This was already an altered timeline wasn't it? How much more different could it be made? How many lives can he save with sharing this knowledge, and how many will it condemn? "I… sir… I don't know what to say."

"How did you first meet him?"

"I never met him before today." Ivan saw Picard's hands press into fists, leaning into the table.

"Then how? Hmm? Is he at all responsible of the state we found you in?"

Ivan scrunched his eyebrows, "No… he didn't know who the hell I was."

"But you knew him, what he was, what he could do?"

Ivan nodded, "Yes."

"How?"

Ivan sighed, running a head over his scalp. "Captain, I don't think it would be wise for me to give that information."

Picard was glaring daggers at Ivan now, "I have over a thousand men, women and _children_ on board this vessel that may now be in danger. I need to know _everything_."

Ivan shook his head, "Picard, I won't be able to help in that way. Everything I knew about this place was different when I learned about it! I do know that what may, _may_ be teetering around in this spot of space Q wanted you to confront will be beyond anything the Federation or any Alpha nor Beta Quadrant power has encountered. If you want to safeguard your crew, call Guinan up here and I'm sure I'll be able to tell what I can and cannot help with."

"Guinan? She only has a loose, second hand knowledge of this area due to her people exploring the centuries ago."

"That is my condition." Ivan pressed.

Picard was too desperate to argue. He sent for her, the El-Aurian quickly arriving in the ready room.

While Guinan was beyond the point of terrified, she couldn't help but smile as she looked at Ivan. "You look better."

Ivan huffed a chuckle, "Couldn't get much worse."

"Ivan." Picard implored.

Ivan relented, "The word 'Borg' mean anything to you?" Looking at the bartender.

Her smile dropped, "You know about them?"

"This and that. Hive mind? Drone soldiers? Adaptive technology? Cyborgs? Uncomfortably geometric starships that are damn near unstoppable? Am I hitting a mark or two?"

Picard merely observed the exchange, but already had so many questions.

Guinan scoffed, "You knew who I was before you even saw me didn't you? Knew him, knew this ship and knew Q."

Ivan sighed, "Yeeup."

Picard quickly spoke up, "How?"

"Cable."

[-

Ivan went through the long, uncomfortable journey of explaining television in his universe. How the entire _Star Trek_ universe was a matter of fiction, but how certain things were different. How the Vulcans separated into Romulans, how Q and Picard first met, then, to top it all off, how Guinan and Picard met in a paradoxical folding of time travel.

"You have a brother. Has a vineyard. Hates replicators, won't let them on the property. Has a son called Rene', who ya care for closely and call each other uncle and nephew. Just… not in the traditional sense." Ivan was scouring his mind, looking for every scrap of information he could find. "Uh… Data's maker, Noonian Soong, descendent of the Augment sympathizer, Arik Soong, made two androids, Data himself and another, more advanced but unpredictable twin, called-"

"Enough!" Picard exhaled, mentally exhausted. "I'm convinced. Please, don't share anymore. It may harm the timeline."

Ivan bent his own head, "Woof, good, my mouth has more cotton in it than a plantation."

Neither Picard nor Guinan were in a mood for jokes. "Well… I believe him too. What next?" The El-Aurian grimaced.

Picard was running a hand over his head, thinking.

Ivan was the next to speak. "We get ready."

He proceeded to explain not only the Borg's vastly superior technological capabilities in terms of arms, speed and defensive measure, but the adaptive techniques, that while re-modulation of phasers into the EM band could postpone effects, adaptation is inevitable. "…at least, to my knowledge, to energy weapons."

Picard squinted at Ivan, "What do you suggest then?"

"Kinetics." Ivan shrugged, "They may damn well adapt to that too, but I haven't seen, heard or read of a species that used 'em in a prolonged engagement. Their personal shields may adapt to them, in time, but they will remain vulnerable to close combat, they wouldn't be able to attack and assimilate otherwise."

"Ooo, clever monkey!" Q declared from the other side of the table. "And when you're finally out of energy to replicate your bullets, will you rely on throwing your dung at them?"

Ivan lowered an eyebrow, "For someone who turned me into an _ape_ , you sure do like the monkey jokes." Q disappeared before he could finish the sentence. "Did he just Batman us? Eh, anyways…" Withholding information to actually telling Picard that admitting he was in over his head, may spite Q, he continued with, "we are fully and _completely_ unable to survive the encounter to my understanding of the situation. We _will_ lose people."

Picard ran his hands over each other, "… do you have any recollection who-"

"I don't. I'm sorry." Ivan bowed his head regretfully. "It starts with you surveying a nearby star, finding a life bearing world that once had civilization that was seemingly all scooped up as if simply plucking all industry from the land like weeds, but even if you avoid going there, I doubt that it will deny the possibility that the Borg have detected your presence already."

Guinan bit her lip, "Contact with the Borg may have been inevitable, but the Federation might not be ready technologica-"

Ivan suddenly gasped sharply as he grabbed his head, "Sorry, I might need to see the doctor again. Unless you'd like her or some other crewman to visit me in the brig?"

Picard rolled his jaw around, uncertain on what to do. "Swear… that you won't tell another living soul about any of this again. It stops here, between the three of us."

Ivan blinked, "Captain, there's a lot I can help prevent if what I know is relevant. If I can-"

Picard stared him down, "Swear."

Ivan sighed, surrendering, "I swear. Now… Guinan, I'll escort you back down to Ten-Forward."

Picard nodded, "Dismissed."

The two left the ready room, followed the security officer to the turbolift, on the decent down, Guinan ordered, "Lift-Pause." Turning over to the young human, she asked, "If you knew what and who Q was, why did you act like that? What he did to you was the luckiest incident I've heard a sentient experiencing that ticked him off. Besides, you know that a physical attack would have been pointless."

Ivan didn't face her, staring right ahead. "I… honestly thought he was involved in my being here initially… didn't know what else to do. I've been doing everything I can here, absolutely everything, but I couldn't and still can't stop thing about home… is there anything you wouldn't do to return? No matter how desperate."

He might have struck a deeper cord then expected. The subject of the Borg so fresh made her think of the homeworld enough, but this… "Resume." She ordered.

They continued their trip in silence. Even after they arrived at the bar and the human went behind the bar and took up a decanter of whiskey under the counter, not a word was said. Finally, after filling a glass and choking down its retched wonder, he looked to Guinan, who sat in a chair looking into the stars.

Ivan found another glass, filling it after he filled his own and took it over to the woman. "Here. It doesn't help but it feels good." Putting the generous helping of liquor in front of her.

Guinan nearly hissed at it, before shaking her head, "My body's a temple."

"Now it's a Risian Flesh Palace."

"Look, I appreciate-"

"Zoinks, you really gunna make me drink alone?" Ivan threw up a hand in frustration.

Guinan eyed the glass, slowly wrapping a hand around it. As she lifted it, Ivan swiftly tinked his own vessel against hers, drinking it.

She mimicked him, as best she could, but nearly gagged from the horrid taste and acidic, burning bite as it travelled over her tongue. Coughing into her fist harshly as Ivan stared into the void himself.

After her git subsided, they sat in silence, the warmth of the whiskey warming them from the inside out and numbed their thoughts just enough that their worries seemed like something to confront in an hour, that there wasn't a care as of that moment.

"They will destroy him, you know." Ivan refilled his glass.

Guinan looked over at the man, horrified.

"Not today, no. But after. They'll take him, make him one of them. Depending on Riker, he may or may not live, but even if he is rescued… he'll never be whole." Drinking his glass deeply, the whiskey so thick it was nearly like syrup, "Assimilation is more then physical augmentation or psychologically scaring due to the sheer will of the Hive, no… it scars further… deep into the soul… Picard will carry the actions of what the Borg visit upon him, in this realm and possibly beyond." Ivan was just talking, looking at the stars in fascination as the _Enterprise_ took to warp.

Feeling the buzz turn into a deep inebriation, Murphy scoffed, "I should tell him. Picard is a good man… he… his family…this ship… I don't hold it against him he's French and shit, just… goddamn it… even if things go as planned and we live, I won't be here to help."

He heard Guinan refill her drink. After a minute, she asked, "Will you make it to Sick-Bay?" Almost a whisper.

"Ah, shoot…" Ivan smiled, "Yeah… sorry… I remember how El-Aurians were also called 'Listeners'… if humans had a simple title like that, I'm sure it would be 'Talkers'." He struggled getting out of the chair, but managed to laugh as he started to wander through the doors mumbling to himself. "What… did you say about 'Zero-Point-Energy'?" He slurred slightly.

Guinan shook her head, "Head out, Murphy. You're drunk."

[][]

"I'm detecting some… odd flurries of agitation in the Cerebral Cortex that bellies typical activity." A crewman spoke as he looked at the monitor, "If only you came in sober…"

"Sheesh, you sound like my ma…" Ivan waved an arm at the man. "Sure it's… I need some aspirin is all… or a smoke."

"One vice at a time, mister." The medic chuckled.

Ivan hissed once more as the searing pain seethed between his temples then the back of his head.

 _Genetic Recollection of Synthetic organs based upon-_

"Ah!" He started fanning himself, "Christ on sale, this is getting bad!"

"That… what was that?" Looking at the monitoring device. "There was a spike of brain activity… your heart skipped a more then a beat, you feel dizzy at all?"

"I'm drunk off my ass, the dizzy is a given!" Ivan laughed even as he grasped his head harder.

The crewman's eyes nearly bulged as the anomaly occurred again, "I'm going to give you a sedative, we'll be putting you in medical stasis until- wait, where did that neuron come from?" He focused in om the event, "Computer, freeze frame at point-seven-nine-nine-two… okay… nothing between these two ganglions… Computer, crawl forward by frame points… there! Suddenly neural clusters coming out of nowhere and interfering with ganglionic … they came out of nowhere… Computer, repeat imaging… yes, this makes absolutely no sense. Even if you had dormant or damaged neurons, the brain would have compensated and would have at least some residual activity to compensate for a diverted function."

Ivan was staring at the man, messaging the sides of his scalp, headache growing ever stronger and not just from recent medical issues.

"That must've sounded very… alien to someone like you."

"By 'someone like me', you mean someone with barely enough computing power in my noggin to run a digital toaster? Yeah."

The crewman coughed into his fist, but continued with, "This… phenomena might be harmful. I'm still recommending stasis until we can get more complicated equipment to analyze this information."

Ivan's gut wrangled in fear. The possibility that he might get yanked out of the ship and torn apart by the Borg while he was on his back? Uh-uh. This, plus the idea of going _back_ into stasis was as appealing as getting skinned with a razor covered in lemon juice. "Okay, no. I'd rather bite through the pain then get stuck in another damn tube. Aspirin, not the freezer." He explained before he hissed sharply.

"This is a bit above common pain killers. I'm applying an opioid, tetrahamizadane, you'll get woozy, maybe a little nauseous," Loading a hypospray with a blue tube, "but your system should adapt to its-"

"Adapt…" Ivan mumbled as he held the hypospray away from his neck firmly, looking particularly cathartic as he turned to the man, "… my god… kinetics aren't the answer! Shit!" He quickly snatched the man's combadge and pressed on it, "Ivan to Picard!"

[][]

Picard stared at the cybernetic humanoid with a mix between curiosity and just a sliver of fear, seeing it visually observing Main Engineering. "I want every sensor on this being while we still have it aboard. From internals to tricorders, give me everything you've got. Mister Worf, use any means necessary to neutralize the invader, avoid close proximity."

Worf progressed from stun then to kill, seeing the creature fall to the floor dead. After it's replacement arrived as Picard was told, Worf tried to stop the newcomer from effecting the ship like its predecessor, only for a small forcefield to appeared in front of its path.

'It's true…' The revelation of it all, not only the Borg, but of Ivan's words overwhelmed him like a child being overcome by a hightide. All the while, the crew around him were gathering valuable information from these… Borg. The components that were harvested from the cadaver and the phantom, alien signal between the individual 'drone' and the ship both before and after its death.

After the drone returned to its vessel, its duty of not only gathering intelligence but disrupting the deflector grid a success, Picard focused every asset on his ship to restore the shields before the Borg Cube was able to apply its own ship-board means of examination. In the mean time, he gathered his senior staff plus Guinan and Ivan.

The two odd additions to the table explained the situation between them to the rest, and with their final suggestions: the El-Aurians, run as far and as fast as they could. The human's, while investigating the ship, they should place transporter inhibitors on several torpedoes before they leave and detonate them in their escape.

"That… would be an inexcusable act of violence." Crusher was barely able to declare.

"Killin' someone before they kill you… and the families aboard? An… inexcusable bit of violence is the only real answer, doc." Ivan was forcing the words out of clenched teeth as the pain only increased moment by moment.

Geordi spoke next, "If we backtrack the signal and manage to communicate with them, we don't have to blow anyone up. I recommend that we-"

"We won't be able to say anythin' of interest to him. It'd be as if someone's chicken sprung up from your dinner plate and started talkin'. Sure, it'd be confusin', but these guys have a certain lack of curiosity of such an event. And if you _do_ manage to crack their hivemind-communication, they'll know and put up somekind of safeguard or outright kill us. They are smarter then you, more teched out, and they know it. 'All war is deception'." Ivan explained with no shortness of breath or lost patience, he barely remembered to quote Sun Tzu.

"We are not at war," Councilor Troi calmly stated, "we only just encountered this species and-"

"Tell that to the thousands of other races, _trillions_ of people they have forced their will upon!" Ivan stood from his chair and slammed his fists into the table. "I will not have this ship and its dull-witted denizens die from a lack of healthy paranoia!" The man sighed, "I'm sorry, I've been neglecting my medication. Please, forgive my outburst, I'll be leavin'." Ivan departed the bridge, leaving for sickbay, then taking the 'suggestion' of taking shelter with the other civilians at Ten-Forward. Finding a comfortable cot, he decided to just take the medication, pass out and hope for the best. What else could he do? He didn't have the technological means of fashioning weapons to defend against bordering actions, nor how to calibrate ship-weapons or defenses. Shit, he didn't even have the _physical_ ability to defend himself.

The only thing he had was knowledge, possibly faulty knowledge and he was never too smart to begin with, so using it wisely wasn't exactly worth putting the chips on the table. The sinking feeling in his gut that telling Picard _anything_ at all probably not only fucked himself but this ship and its crew. Past the typical nerdy sense of wonder, he did in fact owe them a lot for saving his hide.

He took the hypospray and applied it to the right side of his neck. Felt a lot, or entirely unfeeling, different then he would have imagined, thinking it would have been fuzzy, only lightly stimulating the region of its application. There was nothing to feel. Or maybe that was just the painkiller.

[ _ **END**_ ]

 _ **Howdy folks! Making a hybrid between an OC and a Self-Insert. I also had this planned for a Game of Thrones fic called**_ _ **Living Saint, but this is unlike the former, as the 'OCs' in**_ _Saint_ _ **effectively possessed the bodies of an already established character. This is far simpler and more difficult all at the same time due to how Ivan is himself from an Alternate Reality, knowing of our Star Trek, all the while being in an Alternate Reality of Star Trek.**_

 _ **I'm making Ivan's journey as difficult as it is unpredictable. I've been kinda disappointed with a lot of the OC stories, so I decided to make my own. These were a combination of many of the promising ones stopping, or the stories I found were unsatisfactory.**_

 _ **I was originally planning of making the Enterprise era to start off my Star Trek AU called Odium, but felt this might be an easier way of segwaying into the fic, alongside this one's different 'eras'.**_

 _ **Review at thy leisure. Don't worry, I can take it ;)**_


	2. 2- Once Awake

Once Awake:

'Well… shit.' Ivan thought as he slowly floated away from the exploding ruins of the starship. His rebreather was already out of air, his eyes ached even as he clenched his eyes as tightly as he could, the vacuum already beginning to sap his warmth from him. Would he suffocate before he froze to death? He risked opening his eyes, seeing the blurry, blocky light of the system's blue star, the atmosphere of the green world he had so recently visited was almost glowing, overwhelming his sight. As he closed his eyes, the lids stuck dryly and stopped him from closing his organs to the raw elements of the system once again, almost making him groan in pain, if he even had breath in his lungs to spare.

The terrible burning in his lungs forced him to squirm like a worm, moving every which way in the near zero gravity to try and alleviate, escape the internal agony. This pain was only alleviated after several hellish minutes.

In his last moments of awareness, he thought back to what led him to this little adventure and its end: that juvenile demand to no longer be bound to what is seen, heard and dreamt of but to land upon distant shores, smell its air and wonder. Turns out he's wondering whether his corpsicle will eventually be found by the _Enterprise_ within the next goddamn century.

[Earlier]

Ivan was staring at the reports of the Borg's 'hivemind' signal. While he did convince the commanding officers not to go with the plan of tryin' to back track it, Ivan's thoughts swam over the eighteen people that may have lived if the plan went forward and was somehow successful. He suddenly felt very much like the people in charge of letting Coventry being bombed to bits in world war two.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

Ivan, startled from his thoughts, looked up to see Data hovering near his table. Ten-Forward was slow at this time, and the android was as silent as the grave. "No, please." The machine sat at the opposing side, "What are you having?"

"I do not need any food or drink." Data replied plainly.

"Well, I don't _need_ to eat breakfast but I'm tryin' to get back into the habit. What's someone like you doing in a place like this?" He smiled.

"I was curious if I can ask several questions."

"Sure, it'd really disrupt the monotony. Ask away."

"When you-"

"Wait ah- uh garçon? Get the man a drink of his choice on me." Ivan gestured to Data when he got a waitor's attention, "What are you having?"

"As I said, I have no need to-"

"You're tryin' to develop as a human right? Emotions? Social informality? Some such? Well, usually when someone sits at another man's table, it's the host's duty to get them something. Simple. I recommend the grapefruit juice. It's the strongest thing for the mornin' other than a cup of joe or booze."

Data took the recommendation and the waiter left. "When you speak casually, I've noticed you intentionally leave out certain inflections to your words and sometimes this aspect is lacking in other moments of conversation, why is this?"

"Yeah, I like to keep this bit o' lingo as part of my 'southern charm'. I like to think it's disarmin', cultured, and a way to give a little back to my father who was a neck-deep-hic."

"A what?"

"Red neck, southern simpleton, borderline hillbilly. Kinda a subculture in what was once the United States of America. Cultural identity 'n such." Ivan sipped at his orange juice and stared uncertainly at his long cold corn-beef hash.

Data pondered this a second, "Your identity is a choice? Is it not a matter of nurture or upbringing?"

"I think that's only half the battle. All things dealin' with a being's outlook on their existence can ultimately be decided by choice, ya know? Wait. Don't answer that."

Data seemed intrigued by this idea. Maybe it was all an imitation to make him less rude during conversations.

"You don't feel emotions at all right?"

Data looked back up and nodded, "That is correct."

"No, it's conjecture." Ivan sighed as he tried chewing on his breakfast. "You've been exposing yourself to stimulation rather then out right modification? Right. So, you know, or think, that what you have for hardware and software are more than capable of serving you to achieve your goals." Ivan omitted the emotion. "Have you ever considered that the core issue of you failing to reach this goal so far is due to _choice_? You've been told you can't experience emotions, you conclude you cannot 'cause of this and while you've been tryin' to get there, you've only been marching to the finishing line with one leg tied to the other?"

Data seemed genuinely uncertain at Ivan, not the facial expression he had before, but was staring directly at Ivan, unmoving and unflinching, not even his eyes moved. This seemed more like he was focused on computing power; social protocols being set to the back burner.

Data then turned his head slightly, "I will have to consider this."

"Listen pal, I don't know diddly about how you were made," Sorta a lie, "nor who made ya and why," Definitely a lie, "but at the end of the day, everythin' begins with choice. And I must question yours."

"What do you mean?"

"Humanity is overrated." Ivan drank the rest of his juice, "What the Federation done did with mankind's outlook is only skin deep. Makeup. Prancin' about declarin' how noble and pure it is. The human experience may not be worth it, considerin' all the baggage." Tapping a finger against the table. "We haven't grown out of infancy, we've merely entered another childhood."

Data tilted his head slightly. "This is an extremely pessimistic outlook, the kind I have been aiming to avoid."

"Pessimism is an eventuality. Your lifespan is technically indefinite, you'll be a cynic yet." Ivan smiled. "But it ain't all bad. You're happy to be wrong more often."

Data looked particularly perturbed by the idea of joy of any kind stemming from err. "For someone who does not seem to enjoy human nature, you have not taken steps away from its aspects."

"Old habits plus I'm too lazy. How's work treatin' ya?"

"Survey of the local stars has been completed." Data sipped his grapefruit juice both with no small amount of awkwardness and absolutely no reaction. "We have detected the possibility of another vessel in the area."

"Bad guys? Whodya think it is?"

"Several possibilities: Ferengi, Sheliak, Iruujin being the most probable."

"Ur-Quan? Silandro? Ilwrath? None of them?" Ivan smiled privately to himself.

"I am not familiar with those species."

"Yeah, I know. Just makin' a little joke. Which only I get. I'm getting' crazier by the day, I tell ya. Oh! That reminds me; would it be at all possible for me to visit one of these planets? None too far out of the way or anythin' just wanna go down to the surface and get some fresh air."

"For what purpose? There are no habitable planets in this system, we would have to use a shuttle craft to reach the nearest M class planet, three-point twenty-two light years from our current destination."

"Woof, how long would that take? Anyways, doesn't matter! Now, near future, I'd just like to visit one while I'm out here."

Data seemed curious about the reasoning this human brought, doing something just for the chance to do it. "I will forward your request."

Ivan smiled broadly, "Much obliged. Got any other questions?"

What was said after would most certainly be considered monotonous. Sure, Ivan liked Data, yes, he's more then willing to help him with his goals, no matter how misguided, but there are certain aspects of tedium when explaining why Ivan prefers vegetables over fruit, meats over sweets and then there was the awkward stuff: sexual orientation and how he feels toward his. 'I swear to cow, if these questions get weirder, I'd better charge him.' Soon after, Data had to leave to attend his duties, Ivan went on and on for hours in what can be considered a typical day for Ivan aboard the Federation's flagship; eat, read, and exercise, which leads to the current moment…

Ivan was sweating a storm, trying to get at least three one armed pull ups for today, and only managing the single. His arm felt like it was going to rip his bones from his flesh, as he tried and tried to force his right arm to do as it was told. He didn't even want to think how his left would react with this exercise. Finally relenting, Ivan dropped from the bar to the floor, took a nearby towel to relieve himself of his perspiration. "Next? Hmmm… dunno what to do. Bar. Yes, bar. Poor Guinan. Must be seek of looking at my mu- ah! Fucking cockgobbler!" Ivan screamed as he turned around to see Data staring at him not a meter away. He sighed, patting his chest to steady his heart, "Domo arigoto mister roboto. Please don't do this again, my drugs are makin' me a bit wacky… what's up?"

Data merely responded to the last mote of what he was muttering, "How long until you are ready to leave?"

Ivan's eyes widened, and he smiled, "We good to go planetside?"

Data nodded, "Yes." Simply.

"My man! I owe you!" Ivan would have hugged him if he was a hugger. Instead he placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly. "How did you convi- doesn't matter! Who are we going with? What do I need to do? I can get ready in twenty minutes or less."

"Merely sampling some of the local ecology, which have proven to be anomalous due to the world's proximity to the O-class star and thriving species of both floral and fauna."

"Mhm… yeah… I know what some of them words mean! I'll get ready, which shuttlecraft are we using?"

Ivan nearly sprinted out of the gym, heading to the nearest sick-bay and hastily getting a crewman to see to his medication. "Alright, alight sir, just slow down. Now, you know that you shouldn't use this above the recommended dosage? You may be feeling only lighter symptoms, but this _is_ an opioid and any higher and you risk complications."

"Yes, yes, yes! I'll take it every four hours and never more, I promise."

Taking his belongings, he rushed to his quarters, took what belongings he thought he needed and left for the shuttle bay.

Arriving a minute or two before his foretold twenty-minute rendezvous, Ivan must've looked far more eager then was kosher when he saw not only Lieutenant Commander Data, but two other officers, one from sciences he's never seen before and was possibly the first Andorians Ivan's ever seen, the other was an operations officer he's definitely seen before, a human woman with black hair and pale skin.

"Howdy!" Ivan greeted cheerfully, extending a hand to the Andorian to shake, "I'm Ivan!"

"Lieutenant Riv Ch'chyllohr." He looked more perturbed as he shook back, before leaving to enter the shuttle.

Ivan moved to the young woman, "Ivan, a pleasure!" Shaking her hand, whom returned it with a smile and equal gusto.

"Ensign Sonya Gomez!" She smiled. "Looking forward to working with you!"

Moving to Data, Ivan asked, "So what do you need me to do?"

"The shuttle's teleporter is currently inoperable. We will need you to redistribute equipment we will be using in our survey."

"Oh… pack muling… hey, that sounds good to me!" Ivan was at first insulted that he was to be used in such a menial fashion, but then he remembers he was going to visit an _alien planet_. 'Shit, I probably would have gargled his hog if it was the price, considering.'

[][]

The whole trip would take near twenty-eight hours to complete, Including the two then three hour travel time getting their and meet the _Enterprise_ at an adjacent system. Ivan was so excited yet bored during the wait, he felt like that kid stuck in a family trip asking the parents 'are we there yet' repeatedly, just replace the later with 'how long' every twenty or so minutes to the poor Andorian who was stuck at the helm.

Of course, Ivan refrained from asking the alien a thousand and one questions, settling on watching the being's antennas quark erratically whenever the human looked over his padd. Turns out, not a lot of Andorians are in Starfleet, Ivan researched, in the recent half century due to increasing pressures on pacifism. The 'Blues' as they are referred to casually, are fairly militaristic culturally, and these ideals have only begun to disintegrate in the recent century but are still prevalent enough that many are turned off by current Starfleet doctrine, instead applying for local defense fleets.

'Andorians = Spartans?' Ivan wrote on his padd, making a large section of his founding species list.

'Tellarites = Porkish-Athenians

Humans = Macedonians?

Vulcans = Romans?'

The whole thing was bullshit, granted, but it was interesting to write a premise over these species that share several elements with human antiquity. There was only so much one can do on a shuttle going at warp-something. Which wasn't bad! At least he was confined in someplace new, Ivan was thinking he's so intimately aware of his own quarters on the Starship, he'd be able to walk around blind without bumping into much.

Besides eye-banging the Andorian, he also peeked at the ensign, trying desperately to remember where he saw her before. He's usually good with faces, but damnit he can't place where he's seen her. "Yo, Ensign, mind telling me if we've met before?"

She looked quickly to him, "I doubt it, I only transferred here a month ago. Unless you've been to main engineering…?"

"Woof, you bad to deal with the Borg practically first day then? Welll, apart from the one time I tried to sneak into place a stick of TNT on the warp-core, never been."

This earned a smile from her, "Funny."

"Ohhh… now I remember… you serve under Lieutenant La Forge. Spilled something on the captain?"

Suddenly mortified, her eyes bulged and raised her hands, "I-I didn't know he was going to engineering!"

This made both Ivan and Riv laugh, "That was _you_?" The later amusingly demanded.

Data was silent during the whole exchange, observing it obscurely. Conversation descended from embarrassment to common protocols when being in engineering, then Ivan needing to Segway this into some other topic, "So! Anyone see any good movies recently?"

"Movies? You mean holodeck programs, right?"

"Ah shit! I forgot about all ya'll and your lack o' television… wait, does that mean you've never seen _Star Wars_? Or, God forbid, the _Wild Wild West_?"

They all looked perplexed, Ivan continued with, " _Star Wars_ is kinda like… I dunno… if a bit of Shakespeare had a love child with a Space Opera? I think. Oh, and the _Wild Wild West_ is simply the best movie ever. Ya see, there was this actor called Will Smith…"

[][][

"[Commander! We have a contact in radius!]" The massive Uson declared, "[It has Federation warp-signature!]" The communication net seemed almost overwhelmed with translating the man's words while also inputting the massive degree of volume in order to exclaim the importance.

The Olg commander of the expedition flipped open his tricorder and saw what he saw. 'Small vessel. Possibly a scout or a patrol team.' "Decrease camp power emissions. They will undoubtedly be attracted to the Satolum deposit. Prepare a twenty latar zone. Let us give these barbarians a warm welcome." His jaws unsheathed from the anticipation of digging into flesh.

[][][]

"So, this is all after the American civil war right? This man who was literally half the man he was _plus_ a traitor, decided to recruit not only another Confederate and his men but kidnap the best scientists in the nation to build a giant, massive, mechanical spi-"

"We have arrived near the gravity well of Exter-Five!" Riv announced almost joyously. "Entering atmosphere in twelve minutes at a… was there already a survey team out here? Detecting artificial structures."

Data looked at the readings, "Negative, no buoys, no beacons and no signals of recognition. Let us head down to this location."

"Sir, that's not a kilometer from the structures, wouldn't it be against the prime directive? It could be intelligent life."

"The shuttle cannot detect anything else on the surface that suggests a native intelligence."

Riv sighed, "With all due respect sir, they could be subterranean, in hibernation, or any number of factors."

Data considered this for a moment, but then nodded, "We shall do an extra series of scans. Even subterranean species would leave a trace we can read given time."

Ivan groaned, "Well, ya'll better be quick. I gotta pee and I can't just roll down a window and let the guy behind us worry about it."

The damn process took nearly another hour. Sure, it was a pressure on the bladder, yes, it was a terrible tease to have that world hanging out _right there_ the whole time, but Ivan didn't know a damn thing about what may go tits up if the officers didn't do their shit before heading down. He didn't want a repeat of that one _Enterprise_ episode where the away team was going crazy from something in the air, or worse, there actually being natives down there. Getting chunked by a wooden spear or something is so much more complicated than not getting chunked.

Data confirmed that, other then the small cluster of artificial structures, there was indeed no sign of intelligent life. 'Shit, what if its _Pitch Black_? And we got the blessing of good timing to get munched on by some crazy weird predators?' Ivan pondered this for a second, 'Going to an alien planet. Worth it!'

[][]

The shuttle didn't meet any epic heat-shield event from coming into contact with the atmosphere, nor was there a lot of effort into actually landing the vehicle. Ivan suspected it was due to the deflector shields mitigating or even removing this element entirely.

In orbit, the world looked mostly green and brown, not like Earth's green and brown, but similar enough he thought it'd be nearly a spitting image when they got to the surface. Wooooboy, was he wrong. The trees, the grass, everything that looked like it performed photosynthesis on some level was more orange then than a tangerine. It was like the universe demanded that this is the origin world of all things orange, the Holy-Land of apricot, master and mistress of peachy tones everywhere. As he hefted the hiking bag of equipment alongside the shuttle's other crew, Ivan couldn't help but comically shout out, "How the hell can there be something this orange!?"

This startled the otherwise professional Starfleet personnel, looking back at the shit-eating-grin Ivan as he quickly rushed past them and headed to the structures apace. "C'mon! We only have less than a day to spend here! Gotta see all we can!"

Riv rolled his eyes, "He's easily impressed."

"It's kinda cute, like kid's reaction." Gomez smiled.

Data didn't respond, only watching the man run as he took out his tricorder and began to scan nearby. Detecting a disturbance in the flora, he paced over, knelt down and ran a hand over the disturbed patch of grass. 'Whatever had made this was over half a ton.' He concluded, thinking at first it was some solitary predator, or the outskirt tracks of herd animals. "These tracks aren't more than a half hour old, we should be weary in case the creature that made them is using the structures as shelter."

"Good thing we got phasers then." Rev remarked, "I'll volunteer to watch over the primitive."

[]

"Whoever made this has a serious boner for Mayan architecture. Or Aztec. Honestly can't tell them apart."

"Mhm." Rev ignored the human.

"I mean, it looks like stone, but then ya actually touch the stuff and its like steel met sand-paper."

"Mhm."

"This is bananas. I mean, who made this? And just up and left it all?"

"Mhm."

"We got any idea who's this is?"

"Umhm."

"Well, good thing you're a science officer. Was worried you wouldn't be able to do your job and talk my ear off all at the same time."

Rev glared at the man, "I've been doing all I can with the information at hand while _you've_ been doing nothing but talking."

Ivan scoffed, "The hell else am I gunna do? I've been hauling equipment since minute one, you've been a terrible conversation partner, and that was a fuckin' joke, Jesus Christ man!"

"Here's to thinking that talking to Councilor Troi would actually increase the thinky-thinky parts of that brain to a point of sapience and actually be useful in anything else! I will have to send a complaint to Command over her performance, she's made you slower somehow!"

"Hey! She's not _that_ bad at her job!"

Almost like a spin on a Twister dial, Riv looked absurdly angered by Ivan, then started a genuine belly laugh. The human swore he saw a tear too.

" _That_ was funny." Riv pointed at Ivan.

"I aim to please." The later replied plainly.

Riv sucked air through his teeth then bowed his head slightly, "I regret my mood. Survey duty really isn't an exactly joyful activity."

"Ya kiddin'? I'd give an arm, a leg and go down on the lieutenant-commander if it meant doing this as my job." Ivan gestured around him, "Look about and smell the goddamn tangerines, this is amazing!"

"The first couple of planets? Sure." The Andorian shook his head and huffed, "The fiftieth? The magic wanes some."

Ivan could understand that slightly. To Riv, this was just another day in the office, more so, it was the job apparently unwanted at the work-place. 'Like cleaning dishes.' Ivan tried to guess. "I 'spose that makes sense. Need anything? I'm about to check on the others."

The Andorian looked up at the sky, "Something to make the sun colder would be simply marvelous."

"Oh, sorry, left that in my other pants."

The Andorian sighed and rolled his head around, "Actually, I may join you. Need shade." Rubbing thin strands of sweat off his brow.

[][]

The ambush was set. The intruders had yet detect their presence on the surface, nor the Brawler hiding behind this world's moon. "Kolark, status?"

"Intruders have begun to gather in the furthest east quadrant closest to camp."

"This area is highly forested…" The Olg hissed lowly in concern, running a finger under his chin, "We may not have the numbers to pursue if one or two gets away… have a couple warriors at their shuttle, just in case."

"That would only leave three to the ambush…"

"I don't need numbers when I have an Uson." The Olg smiled broadly when he heard the double click of said creature's translator unit over the coms. "We'll begin at nightfall. Stealth-Move to the treeline."

[][]

After several gulps from his canteen, Riv pointed at Data, "Sir, we got anything special?"

"Clarify." The android spoke as he continued on his tricorder.

"I don't know really… I'm confused why I asked in the first place."

"Melting brain probably. Starting to feel the effects myself."

Riv scoffed, "You have a brain? Didn't think you neoperthals had one."

Ivan laughed, " _Neanderthals_. But that was good!"

Riv retorted with a smile. "Still, lieutenant-commander, can't we just say we collected enough data? I mean, it looked like the whole planet had similar enough biology."

Gomez shrugged, "Well, its only two hours until night. You two can rest, set up camp while Data and I continue to analyze nocturnal activity."

"Shit, I'm more then happy to go with you guys." Ivan spoke cheerfully.

Riv smirked, "Yes, please. It's time you two took custody of our child."

Ivan smiled back, "Please pal, don't sound so… _blue_."

Riv's smile dropped, "I would doubly recommend you getting him away from me now. Don't worry about camp, I'll take care of it."

Ivan passed his pack of equipment to the Andorian, who took it off his hands maybe a little too eagerly, whom in return plopped his own Tricorder in Ivan's hands. The human stared at with both awe and near complete ignorance. "My man, I dunno how to use this."

"Well. You volunteered. Learn fast."

[][[

"Shit… you guys seeing this?" Ivan asked aloud as he looked down and saw the goddamn soil start to light up in thin, straw like rivers.

Ensign Gomez scanned the event, "Somekind of… bioluminescent roots?"

While she was doing that, Ivan began muttering out of ear shot, " _Please no_ Avatar _planet, please no_ Avatar _planet_ …"

"Huh, colonies of somekind of quasi-Lumbricus are starting to gather under the trees for… amino discharge… yes, the ejection is a waste byproduct of its metabolism producing a protective sap over much of the bark to either dissuade predators or maybe even to reflect solar radiation."

"A likely hypothesis, ensign." Data nodded.

"Yeeaaahh… what he said." Ivan pulled out the bottom end of the tricorder out and was surprised by what he saw. Instead of a tight grouping of flashing lights and buttons, he saw what could very much be compared to a small touch screen, like the Iphone his mother got when he was fourteen. Still, he couldn't tell eyes from asshole from the words on its screen or the buttons along the screen's side.

"Can you do a focused scan of the tree?" The ensign requested.

"Hun, I don't even have a high-school diploma. I don't know _how_ to scan with this thing, plus I don't think I'm even qualified." Ivan shrugged with one arm.

She then moved to his side, "Hold it out where I can see it… you see the most top right button? Yes, push that, that's the scanner, point it towards the tree's base," Taking his hand and guiding it to the trunk, the tricorder then proceeded to scan in varying spectrums and showed several results on the screen, "and there you go! Simple. Now, you push… this one… the microscopic analysis from the computer concludes something similar… the aminos aren't strictly nutrients, they act as a kind of biological trigger for the colonies of worms to reproduce in an environment which protects the offspring from the solar radiation."

"Ah, protectin' the youngin's from sunburn. Why are the worms all glowly glowy then?"

"Well, why don't you find out?" She smiled, "I'll head to camp and get some food." She patted his hand once before departing.

Ivan smiled back, leaving only him and Data in the forest. After doing the same thing with worms with the tricorder… turns out they're like a ground-bound species of Glowbugs, they're less like worms and more like caterpillars or centipedes, having two genders and use the glow to communicate with each other in a courtly manner. They would only do it near night due to most predators retreating from lack of light-sorces to hunt.

Grinning from ear to ear, Ivan looked back up to see Data looming nearby, staring at him, "Jumping Dragon Jesus! _Stop_ that." He jumped then seethed at the android. "Is there something wrong? Do you need something?"

"I believe ensign Gomez is attracted to you. I have questions, if you don't mind."

Ivan blinked, "… fucking what?"

Data looked abashed at the use of obscenity, "She has made several requests to know more about you while we were surveying, then while you were here has gone out of her way to make physical contact."

"Oh… I haven't really… noticed." The human wasn't certain to any degree whether Data's observations were an accurate one or she was just friendly plus touchy. "Pal, I ain't really a doyen when it comes to women, I can't say for sure she is. N-not that I'm not flattered by the idea, she's a lovely little lady but we haven't said more then ten words to each other."

Data turned his head, "That is incorrect, you've both exchange ninety-two words in direct conversation."

"No man, I mean I don't know her and she don't know me too good."

Data nodded slightly, "Yes, she seems more physically inclined rather than impressed due to personable elements of a less tangible nature."

Ivan grimaced, "Thanks?" He spoke quizzingly. "What're the questions, man?"

"So, you had no inclination of possible attraction on her part? Is this due to body language miscommunication or are you lacking an element of biological reception making such subtle forms of sexual communication compatible?"

Ivan stared at a moment before he said, "I like women, if that's what you're asking. And probably the first one… I've only really _been_ with one woman and that was nearly seven years ago. It was… awkward, uncomfortable and filled with no small amount of questions on my own part as well."

Data looked at the ground from side to side for a moment, "I see. Thank you, Ivan." Looking back up and nodding.

Ivan chuckled, "Might as well call me Ivy at this point."

Data looked confused, "Ivy? Why?"

"It's what my buds call me. It started at boot-camp and then it kinda stuck from there."

Data nodded, "A nick-name then? How did such a sobriquet come to pass?"

"Well, my friends and I were talkin' about villains from comics, it moved down to favorites which meant, which one got your dick harder, someone happened to mention a character called _Poison Ivy_. It kinda clicked from my name being Ivan, so it was an easy switch that stuck worse than herpes."

"But you feel no aggravation or frustration towards it?"

"I did at first, but it just… I dunno, I felt more comfortable with it after a while. People called me it due to familiarity rather then as a joke, where they felt cozy enough with me to use it and that it was a sign I can be homely with them too."

Data nodded, "Thank you Ivy."

Ivan smiled, "Say, I'm gunna get some chow too. You good here?"

"Yes, I will come to camp soon as well."

Ivan walked back to camp, which had a small, warm yellow glowing device about the size of a mini-refrigerator. Instead of producing heat, waves of cool arm were felt emanating from the machine, making him sigh contenfully. Riv and Gomez were sitting at a fallen tree trunk not too far from the device, holding tin foil covered bars of food while talking.

"Yo! Got anything taco flavored?" Ivan rose a hand.

Gomez smiled confusingly, "What's a 'taco'?"

"You don't know how much that hurts." Despite the mention, Ivan smiled as he reached into the box of rations, and read the label "Lamb chops? Hmm…" Taking a seat with the others on the tree, he ripped open the foil and asked, "How are ya guys? Riv, you pass out any?"

"The night is young." The Andorian scoffed.

"Hell, the night's pre-born."

"Very young..." Taking a bite of a lime-green ration bar.

"What do ya two got?"

"Salmon." "Mashed-Shaysha." They spoke in turn.

"Oh… those sound good." 'God, I hate fish.'

Before too long, Data came back, making Ivan wave a hand, "Hey LC! Pop a chair! I'd offer a beer if I had any."

"We did not bring any deployable furniture."

"No, but we do have a lovely bit of dying foliage we're on. C'mon! What kinda food would you like?"

Data was going to restate he doesn't require sustenance, but remembering earlier today, he reached inside the box and took out a ration, sitting at the end of tree.

"This place ain't too bad. Wouldn't mind plopping a cabin somewhere upstream, or near a large body of water. Something that'd cool the air." Ivan broke the silence after several moments of silence.

"Someone has to like it." Riv chuckled.

"All I need to know if there's any game around worth eating and I'm sold."

"Game? As in hunting?" Gomez asked confused, "Why would you hunt anything here? A replicator would make food just as well without any cruelty."

"It's fun! Waiting for the right moment, all the while you've been tracking the beast for a while, maybe even hours, then you line up your sights, then _bang_! The animal either starts running from the wound or the sound, or you hit at just the right spot where you kill it quickly, painlessly. Then you take the corpse back to camp, skin it and section it off… okay, I'll stop right there, you look like you're about to throw up." Ivan looked at Gomez who was becoming increasingly pastel as he spoke.

Riv spoke up, "I liked the story!"

Gomez shuttered, "You would, you're Andorian!"

Riv shrugged, "Hunting is a natural instinct, it turns out our races might not be too dissimilar after all, look at it that way, human." He spoke to the ensign in a condescending manner.

"Some of our instincts are only useful when we were evolving! They have no place in us now."

"They are fun though." Ivan chuckled.

"Perhaps, but that-"

Data suddenly stood up, "Be quiet." The android ordered, staring over the trees, "… I heard something."

"Probably just an animal." Riv suggested. "Curious about us."

Data didn't respond, instead taking out a tricorder, and began scanning the area. His eyes momentarily flashed with what could be shock, quickly taking out a phaser, "Cov-!" Just as he began to order, a red beam shot out of a nearby tree and struck the android square in the chest, sending him flying back.

Ivan quickly pushed Gomez behind the tree trunk as another bolt of red flashed past them, and just when Riv started returning fire with his phaser, another beam from behind their cover hissed into the Andorian, the weapon blast striking his head and Ivan watched in horror as a large chunk of his head from his right eye to his ear was nothing by a smoking crater.

Instinctively, Ivan took the phaser from his fallen friend, and started pushing the weapon's buttons wildly, only for a large section of the clearing in front of him to be coned in phaser-light, seeing the nearby tree frying at its base and being to tumble over.

Before he reacted, Ivan heard a mighty roar from where the attack originally began and as he turned, a massive bear, coated from head to toe in metal, and carrying a massive bazooka like gun on its shoulder, swung its massive paw, grasped Ivan by his left arm, and damn near almost lifted him as it wretched his arm from its socket, and before the human could even yell out, the crunch of breaking bones shook his body in pain as it squeezed, "AHHHH!"

A beam struck the bear in the chest, forcing it to drop Ivan as he began to backpeddle away. Ivan shook his head, trying to focus, and saw Gomez pointing the phaser, frozen where she laid. Reacting without thinking, he scooped Gomez up with his good arm, carrying her in what could be described as a half assed fireman, he ran as far and as fast as he could into the forest even as he heard the sharp barks of weapons fire behind him.

By the time he felt like his lungs burned so hot they'd turn to ash, Ivan faltered, dropping Gomez as he fell to his knees.

Ivan wheezed, every breath was like feeling a knife being dug into his chest. He flopped his useless left arm in front of him, the pain… far way. He knew it'd hit him like a freight train soon enough. "Gomez?"

Gomez was sitting up by a boulder. Just staring ahead.

"Ensign, you hit?!"

She didn't respond.

Ivan shook his head and growled, crawling over on his hand and knees. Kneeling he said, "I am truly sorry." Before swinging his palm against her face and seeing her sputter as she cupped her face and hissed in pain.

Suddenly cognizant, Gomez began sputtering, "T-t-the commander… lieutenant Riv…" Tears began streaming down her face.

"Okay, I need you to show me how to fire this." Ivan's borrowed phaser was sweaty at the handle and he nearly fumbled showing its back to her. "We need to get a signal to the _Enterprise_ , get the lieutenant-commander."

"You saw him! He's dead!" She cried out.

"No, he's a machine, he can be fixed. But first, we need the shuttle. Show me how."

Gomez shook her head trying to focus, taking out her tricorder and began typing away, before setting the device down, "T-this should cover our life-signs, at least for a while."

"Okay, that's good, that's very good, now show me how to use the phaser."

Gomez starred at the weapon, "Isn't this effecting you at all? How are you so calm?"

Ivan sighed, "This is old hat with me. Except the fucking bear, _that_ was new. And I might be in shock from…" He waved his left arm and laughed when the odd movements forced her to look away in disgust. "I might need to up my meds." He continued to laugh.

"That… the bear, it was an Uson, they're a member race of the Iruujin Principalities." She started to shake, "We're fighting the Iruujin… they're probably dismembering Riv as we speak…" Gomez started to sob, either from fear or hopelessness, Ivan couldn't tell.

Ivan stared at her. Feeling a kind of… guilt? Was that the right feeling? He knew he wasn't responsible, but he's regretful of the fact, in order to survive, she will have to be a killer as terrible as the ones that hunt them, as ruthless as he himself was on Earth.

"Listen to me Sonya, cut your heart from this." He placed a hand on her shoulder, "Feel nothing. Say it."

She shook her head, "But I can't…"

"Do it."

"Feel nothing." She said after a moment.

"Again."

"Feel nothing."

They repeated this process for several minutes, where she was originally chaotic and nearly deranged, she spoke calmly, cooly, closing her eyes as she focused on doing what Ivan's mantra demanded.

"I need you to show me how to use this. I'm not a good pistol shot, but I need at least know how to fire it without killing you or me."

The ensign nodded, showing him what the three digits did, decreasing power, until stun, then increasing until it can act like a mining laser or disintegrate a lifeform, then the large button, running the finger fore or back increasing or decreasing area focus from a large dispersal cone to a focused beam. The trigger was on the bottom. "Pull the casing forward and back to activiate and deactivate the phaser. It also shows the powercell, if it needs replacement."

"Groovy." Ivan nodded, placing the handle in his mouth after he deactived it, using his only hand to reach for the tricorder at his hip. "The shuttle is a kilometer and a half west of us. Detecting two lifeforms. Also… getting some weird stuff from the shuttle… can you tell me what this is?"

Gomez looked and plainly stated, "Subspace signature fluctuations… that looks like a transport signature."

"They fixed the transporter on the shuttle?"

"I doubt it, the Iruujin are famous for their antiquated transport techniques, they are likely just trying to figure out how it works for reverse engineering."

Ivan nodded, "Okay. Plan: we head to the shuttle, use its sensor to track down the position and numbers, rescue Data, and get the hell out of here. I'd recommend a pincer-ambush, but I'm not sure if they're also masking their life-signs and are baiting us to a trap. We go in together… here. But we go in slow and quiet."

"The night… it's going to be hard to navigate."

"Unless they have equipment to handle night-time, they'll likely have the same problem."

"What about using this river down to the shuttle and-"

"No, too obvious, they'll have a look out."

"How do you know?"

"That's what I'd do. We keep to the forest, and we keep hidden." Ivan began to take off his shirt, a clumsy effort with only one usable arm, but then he asked, "Can you help me make a sling out of this? I can't have my arm flopping around."

Sonya helped him with tying the arms together and using the body to cradle the broken limb. As he stood up, took the phaser out of his mouth and asked, "Are you ready?"

Gomez nodded showloly and then sighed. "I… I haven't killed anyone."

Ivan looked at her, "To survive tonight, you'll have to kill." He spoke grimly. "Let's get moving and keep an eye out."

[][]

Data fidgeted his head from one side to another, the rest of his body unable to receive commands. Looking about, he saw a single bright blue source of light from a device that seemed to hover around the room randomly. When near he was going to ask if anyone was near, a voice, choppy and with an accent that seemed high toned yet remarkably blunt. "Ah, the machine lives."

"I am lieutenant-commander Data, of the Starship _Enterprise_ , serial code-"

"Enough! I already have what I need from you." The being came into view and the first object that gained Data's attention of the humanoid was the odd, tall feather like arrangement of hair at the front of the scalp, bursting with yellows, blues and reds. Then the humanoid lifted one of Data's arms into view and waved it about, "Tough meat, but I assure you, the price I will send you for will be sweeter than any flesh."

"You are Iruujin?" Data inquired without tone of panic or hate.

"Yes! I am of the Olg caste." He spoke with enthusiasm.

"You are violating the Treaty of Altair, by what reason are you here?"

"We are not bound to a Principality, we are freelance, scouting neutral territory for mining rights. Then low and behold, the Federation delivers us a priceless gem of robotics! We owe our future wealth to you, my friend. I am Den'vere, by the way." He spoke as he took up Data's head with both hands.

The mouth of the Iruujin was extended to the sides, past lips, with sharp, dagger like teeth extending along the crest where the jaw would be hidden by cheeks. "Are all my crewmen dead?" Data asked.

The Iruujin gave of face of coyness or humored timidity, "Every single one."

Data looked down for a moment and said nothing.

"Please tell me a machine is vindictive over its lost crew. I'm in the mood for a joke!" He jested with demonic delight as he took Data's head outside. "What does this do for you, construct?!" Den'vere demanded as he pointed his head, face out.

Data saw Riv, strung up to a building's side with ropes attached to the roof, hanging by his neck as his entrails piled at his feet's edge. "Historical records from troops encountering your people during the Iruujin-Human war stated that you used psychological warfare to dissuade and demoralize."

"Only half a truth, Federation." The Iruujin teased.

[][]

"What's the range on these things?" Ivan whispered as they crawled up on their hands and knees through the dirt, seeing the shuttle and two humanoids nearly thirty meters from each other. Thanking God that there weren't more bears If they miss one, they could call in help and royally fuck up the plan. The third member, experimenting inside of the shuttle itself, he really wasn't sure how to take out without notifying the locals.

"Stun to kill; nearly seventy meters, vaporize; twenty."

"Okay… alright… I'll climb the tree line for the farthest douche-bag and hopefully get a clear shot of the one inside. I'll use my tricorder to send your combadge a signal when it's time. Can you do this?"

"I-I have to."

Without a word, Ivan began his slow pace left, across the trees for the optimum position, but kept a steady eye out for any movement to his flanks, unable to use his tricorder to scan for other lifeforms from it being too busy keep his own presence masked. Finally managing to see into the shuttle, he spotted the third combatant, fiddling with one doodad or another.

Taking up as close a position as possible, Ivan knelt and placed his tricorder down, he held the phaser as he pressed the symbol to send the signal with his palm. Holding his arm as steady as he could, he focused on the armed guard to the left, and fire.

"Oh that's not good…" Ivan mumbled out as his beam missed.

The alien quickly turned and began to return fire on his position, at first very chaotically, but he must've saw Ivan move as his fire became a lot more focused near him. He turned his head to see that Sonya's target was down and was glad for little miracles, and using himself as a distraction, stood slightly and fired into the shuttle wildly and without a target.

After two bolts, he must've struck the one inside, as he saw something fall to the floor. "Take him out!" He tried to yell out for the ensign, shooting at the rifleman himself and missing.

Soon, her bolt joined his in trying to find gain on the ambiguous target, only finding it after it tried to move to the shuttle for cover.

Sprinting to the shuttle, Ivan yelled out, "Clear!"

Sonya soon joined the man aboard, carefully avoiding the clutter of dissected equipment as well as the recently made cadaver. The ensign took to the controls and smacked it, yelling, "A phaser bolt hit tactical! Even if we repair the weapons, we won't be able to operate them with fried controls!"

"Send a message to the _Enterprise_!" Ivan ordered, "Then we worry about the other stuff, hurry!"

Gomez quickly began typing away at the screen, then yelled out, "Damnit! They started jamming the shuttle! I don't know if they stopped the signal to _Enterprise_!"

Ivan nearly yelled out, "Time to go! Time to go!" Firing out of the shuttle as he spotted intruders, "Oh shit! There's the fucking bear again!"

The ensign used the scanner to wave through nearby space only for her to sigh in defeat, "They have a ship in orbit. It's not much bigger then a Runabout, but it's armed to the teeth!"

As Sonya turned, Ivan tackled her to the ground, slamming into the Iruujin corpse. "Wh-?!"

The shuttle shook as the Uson fired its weapon at them, tearing a hole into the shuttle's hull, the heat from the impact scorching hot as whatever it fired began to steadily cool off. Ivan quickly jumped up, firing his phaser at the beast, only for it to roar as it hit its armored form. "C'mon you sonofabitch! Get some!"

Sonya quickly rushed forward, increasing her phaser to maximum, the Uson so close, she saw the whites of its eyes. The phaser fired and struck the alien in the chest, seeing the armor turn white hot but not penetrate it. Dazing it, the beast lumbered backward in pain, and before it recovered, Ivan launched forward, shoving his whole body into it, and with its imbalance fell onto its back unsteadily.

Ivan roared with bloodlust, climbing onto the Uson, pointing its phaser directly at its face, and that movement before he fired, Ivan saw a sliver of familiarity, of fear in its crude, animal like features. Then he fired. Again. Then again. The top jaw and a large portion of its head being burned off as it beat through its armor.

Ivan fell off of it, scrambling for the beast's fallen weapon, only for him to struggle, "Jesus! This thing weighs a ton! Help me drag it to the shuttle!"

"Why!?"

"I gotta plan! You said they had a ship right?! Can you check out that transporter? It only has to work once."

[][]

"Uson! Report!" Den'vere demanded as he pressed his palm to the com-unit on his wrist.

An Olg ran up to him, short of breath, "The two humans have secured the shuttle, the Uson was defeated."

"And why are you here?!"

"I got out before they started using that Brute's weapon. I've not been paid enough for that _shrak_."

Den'vere looked agitatingly from side to side. "Have the _Brawler_ target the shuttle, we can't give them the opportunity to leave this system."

"But we dissected their warp capability! They-!"

"Never underestimate the skills of Federation's Starfleet, they'll bang a couple of stones together and somehow forge a warp-coil."

[][

"That blast compromised structural integrity, we won't survive space let alone warp-travel." Gomez shook her head at the prospect.

"We won't have to go far, just enough to clear their jamming signal, making sure that we can reach _Enterprise_."

Gomez stopped, "But… the ship? We'd be shot out of orbit."

"That's what the transport's for."

"But what about the camp? Saving Data?"

"One kidney-stone at a time. We know there are at least three left at the camp, but we can only play Russian-roulette so many times. Besides, we won't last long with that ship in orbit at all. They're probably targeting us as we speak, so we get to that camp with the transport and try to find him."

"But what about the cannon you dragged on board?"

"Uhhh… ignore it! Get a rebreather, get aboard and get a phaser rifle!"

"Why don't you have o- broken arm… alright, rebreather…" She wasn't sure how she was going with this plan. It was damn near suicide. She placed the rebreather over her mouth, feeling it suction close, its small air tank working alongside its recycling system.

As she piloted the shuttle up, Ivan opened the shuttle's rear doors, causing her to yell out, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Trust me! Okay! I'm sending the signal now! They'll be able to hear us from here to River-Nile!"

The Iruujin vessel came into sensor view, its needle-like main hull was surrounded by a shell of somekind that glowed faintly. 'Those look like… Vulcan ships from _Enterprise_ just different…' "Alright, time to go Sonya!"

Sonya quickly stood up and rushed to the transport pad, "Okay, so do we jump in at once?"

"Not exactly." Ivan ran behind Gomez, ripped off her rebreather, and slammed into her body with his shoulder. "Adios, babe." He sighed when the transporter did its thing and sent the woman back to the surface. "Computer: deactivate artificial gravity."

[][]

"-of a bitch!" Ensign Gomez cursed as she reenergized on the surface of Exter-Five near the Iruujin camp. She gasped and quickly looked up just in time to see a tiny explosion, barely visible against the alien night sky of stars.

[][]

"Are humans resistant to Nadions? Seems the Federation shuttle has a survivor." The Iruujin helmsman spoke up as they passed the wreckage.

"No matter, realign ourselves to orbit the camp. We'll soon have to evacua-"

"Energy spike off port!"

[][]

Ivan kept on smacking the giant key on the side of the bear-zooka, rounds of red-light firing from the barrel. While this thing was heavier then an aircraft-carrier on the planet, but damn did it feel good to fire it in zero-gee! He wasn't sure if this was a plasma cannon or shoots goddamn micro-photon torpedoes, but when this hits the Iruujin ship, the explosions rocked it to the core. Burning eyes could not pry his gaze from launching just over a dozen shots from the stolen weapon until it failed. Whatever damage it did, didn't just disable it like intended, but the shell that covered the starship began to glow bright yellow, Ivan covered his eyes just as the tiny warp core breached final containment and the explosion was so intense that Ivan thought he felt the entirety of the front of his body was scorched skinless from the heat. 'Or maybe that was just the radiation?' He thought gratingly. 'There goes having kids.'

He spared a looked back at the drifting wreckage of not only his own shuttle but the small starship that the Iruujin had. Ivan let the bear-zooka drift from his body. Maybe as a way to go as painlessly as he could or maybe if he put enough opioid in his system it'd relieve some of his respiratory pressures, Ivan took out the hypospray of tetrahamizadane and injected himself of all its remaining contents.

Even as the medication took hold in its comforting, fluffy warmth, the finality of the situation started to creep into his mind. Gratingly, he surrendered to the extremely minute possibility that he'll live past the next ten minutes, let alone get rescue in how long it would take for the _Enterprise_ to get here and beam his ass to sickbay. 'Well… shit.'

[][]

As Ivan peeled his eyes open, and saw the huge, circular light at the center of the room, he concluded a singular fact, "God, I hate sickbay…" He rasped then coughed loudly.

"Don't try to move!" Beverly Crusher quickly ordered as she paced to his biobed. "You've recently suffered some heavy trauma, you _will_ lay here and sleep and you _will_ not talk. Let your body repair."

"En… Ensi…" He coughed.

She understood, smiling, "Ensign Gomez is fine, she was released from sickbay only with the odd bruise and cut the hour she arrived."

"Data?" He manages.

"Lieutenant La Forge is repairing him as we speak. Now, get some rest mister."

Ivan nodded, letting his head fall back and drift back to sleep.

'How often will I return to this room?' Ivan wondered. 'Once was enough, twice was uncomfortable, but six different damn times?'

His body ached, skin burned, the weird techno limb brace made his left arm pang, twitch and groan. After another night's rest, he had to at least see an officer or someone who can tell me what happened after he blew up that Iruujin Skiff. Eventually, in the middle of the nap, he was visited by a haggard looking Ensign Gomez who looked like she wasn't exactly having her share of restful nights. After she roused him to consciousness, Ivan smiled, "Hey, how are ya doin'?"

Gomez returned the grin, but it looked a bit sad, "Not… too well, to be honest."

"You're having an ethical dilemma? Good. Means you're not a monster."

Gomez looked down skeptically at the man as she pulled up a chair, "How long are you going to be stuck here?"

"Dunno." He tried to shrug but whatever was holding his left arm in place felt like it was snagged directly onto the bone and made his face irk, "How did everything on the surface pull out?"

Gomez looked to the side, "When you blew up their transport, the last three Iruujin at the camp surrendered. They were terrified, thought that a larger vessel was in the system and knew they wouldn't make it without their ship. They were right twelve minutes before the Enterprise arrived, we've got two prisoners in thebrig."

Ivan blinked, "Wait, two? What happened to the little piggy that had roast beef?"

Gomez wasn't smiling anymore, and not staring at Ivan so much as staring past him. "I uh found Riv… they had strung him up, and… and something happened then I just…" She looked to the side, wiping a tear off her face, "I shot the one that said was in charge. The other two told Commander Riker, and I accepted full responsibility."

Ivan grimaced, "Your superiors? How are they…?"

Sonya frowned in turn but didn't seem distraught, "They want to say that it was due to the stress of both a combat situation and the impact of seeing the Lieutenant in… the state he was. I'm seeing Councilor Troi everyday now and depending on her verdict, I might be Court-Martialed."

Ivan nodded, understanding even if he disagreed with the CO's decision. She did violate conventions of war by killing a POW. "I'm sorry, Sonya."

She nodded hollowly, forcing a smile, "We got out alive." She looked close to breaking down and crying again but shook her head and sighed, "So, was blowing the ship up then dying your plan from the beginning?"

Ivan thought back at it all and steadily started laughing, "Oh… that got so goddamn out of hand…" His laughing started to hurt his chest, but he ignored it, "It seemed like such a good idea in my head at the time."

Sonya wasn't amused and asked, "So you used me to pilot the shuttle for a suicide run on a ship we had no information on and possibly wouldn't have been disable if they kept their deflectors up? What would have happened if anything in this idiotic plan went wrong?"

"Idiotic plans usually work out, I'm lucky like that."

Sonya suddenly felt the laughter turn contagious and she started sputtering, trying to force herself not to cackle, looking down, biting her bottom lip harshly. "That… _that's_ not funny."

Ivan suddenly looked very serious, "Not one bit." Then continue to titter.

It really wasn't funny. So why couldn't she stop herself from laughing?

"Hahaha-oh ow! Ow!" Ivan used his free hand to rub his ribs. "You see Data yet?"

"Only half of him. That phaser did some heavy damage to his torso, but he should be out and about pretty soon." She was smiling earnestly now, the laughter feeling oddly therapeutic.

"Good. That man can take a beating that'd make Rocky Balboa blush."

"Rocky who?"

"Jesus Christ; get the Doc in here, the pain's unbearable." He clutched at his heart but was smiling.

[][][

"Listen, lieutenant, I don't know _why_ they were down there. They started shooting and we reacted, simple. Even if we had violated their territory, the goddamn ranked officer I was with in those the camp with me, who is _dead_ , mutilated and resting in the morgue now by the way, would have, I dunno, recognized somekinda Iruujin sign, signal or beacon that tells us to get the fuck off their property."

Lieutenant Barnaby's jaw tightened, "Keep the language professional, Murphy, please."

"Keep the point of this little talk productive, oh wait, there isn't even a point in this conversation. We were _attacked_ , we defended ourselves, end of story." Ivan swiped his hand to the side.

"The prisoners say some-"

"Those 'prisoners' can lick the slime off my taint!" Ivan roared, standing up from the chair.

"Sit down!" Barnaby stood up and leaned over the desk.

"Suck a cock!"

"That's it! Ensign! Confine him to quarters, _now_!"

"Well, that's lunch." Ivan looked to the security officer, "Send me to jail, my man!"

"The brig can be arranged!" Barnaby threatened.

"Well you better send some flowers to the families of my Iruujin cell buddies, 'cause I'm gunna test if the bed sheets can hold the weight of 'em for about six or seven minutes!"

Just when the lieutenant was about to retort, in marched Worf followed by Troi, the Klingon took one look and ordered, "You are dismissed, Mister Barnaby."

The man looked like he was going argue, but then he stiffened his spine so much, Ivan thought the pole was going to fall out his ass. "Aye, sir." Nodding to the ensign in the room who followed him out of the room.

After the door closed, the bridge officers turned to Ivan, with the councilor began with, "Was everything alright?"

"Good thing you guys came in when ya did, I think he was close to pulling out his willy to start measuring. What are you two doing here?"

Worf looked to the Betazoid before stating, "To offer our gratitude."

"… I'd like a pony, a rocket-ship, and maybe a baby brother if you can manage it."

Ignoring the banter, Troi smiled, "We are forever thankful that you were able to save not only Ensign Gomez from certain death but securing Commander Data before the Iruujin took him to their ship and escaped."

"Listen, just make sure Ensign Gomez gets help. She's at a tipping point, she's tasted blood now. I don't want her to end up like… like, I dunno…"

"Like you?" Troi finished.

Ivan was suddenly silenced. The words she spoke hit home harder then any threat of internment on part of his previous company. He nodded numbly as his only response. Eventually he gathered up the will to say, "She was just acting on nerves, what happened to that one Iruujin, it's regretful, but she can't be fully held responsible."

Worf shook his head, "She was cleared of any possible charges."

Ivan sighed, "Good. What about the Iruujin?"

"We're filing an official protest, while they may not have been official members of any principality, they will be convicted by a Federation court." Troi informed.

"Without the death penalty I presume?"

"That is correct."

"Shit." Ivan started rubbing his face harshly with both hands. "Well… I uh, thanks? It wasn't nothin' but a thing. Just doin' what I've been doin'."

"Still, the crew owe you a debt." Worf affirmed.

"A debt? Can you let me have maybe five to ten minutes with the Iruujin?"

"Absolutely not!" The councilor objected, but did catch the wind of dark humor on Ivan's.

"Well, will it be possible to get some Holodeck time then?"

[ **END** ]

 **Howdy! Introducing my OC empire in the form of the Iruujin Principalties! They'll take the place as the 'northern rival empire' that was previously taken by the Romulans. They're nowhere near as xenophobic and are arguably more Roman then the frikin' Romulans were, incorporating conquered races and 'civilizing' them in their own culture, rather then just being a homogenous empire. But! They don't take up the 'sneaky, sneak, cunnining' niche the vulcanoids also had, but I'll leave that for another chapter!**

 **Adios, until next time!**


	3. 3- When in Rome

When in Rome:

"Computer!" Ivan yelled out while he was carrying a block of lumber across his shoulders, following the direction that he and the four other gladiators to be have been treading by memory, "Constrict time of exercise… to thirty minutes! When the time is up, move the program's chronological chapter to dawn!" He mustered through gritted teeth.

"Careful you!" He heard the man behind him order, "You drop, I stomp over your fucking corpse!" Sounding like he was struggling more than he was.

Ivan sighed and asked out, "Computer! Decrease load from seventy-five American pounds to sixty, and censor non-user characters from speaking while in this particular exercise!" After the computer gave a confirmation tone, Ivan nearly cried out even with the lessened mass of the cargo on his neck and arms, "Fucking dickhead!"

He meeked through the first bits of the program, just barely, Ivan watching the moon wane as if it were sprinting across time itself, then the sun mottling the starry sky's color with oranges and yellows and Ivan thought back to that damn world, 'Been nearly half a month past that little slice of heaven and hell.' he recalled. Ivan must've been too deep in thought, because before he knew it, the Ludus's doctore snapped his whip and ordered, "Rest!"

Ivan nearly moaned when he dropped the wooden block off his shoulders, quickly tumbling forward due to a mix of exhaustion and his body's imbalance from the sudden drop of weight. The sand sticking to his sweaty chest seemed real enough, his fingers pushing through the thin layer of particles in sudden marvel of the holodeck's skill of replicating the feel, just like when he first got here. Looking up to see one of his 'fellows' make way to a pail of water, the veritable mountain of meat, managing to scoop it out with hands, shaking unsteadily as he brought the life-giving moisture to his lips.

Ivan began laughing, blowing up sand with his breath and gaining the attention of his fellow warrior-slaves, "Of course the Babylonian manages to get to the water first, his people have been hunting high and low for it since before even memory was possible!"

This earned a couple chuckles from his prone brethren, but the Babylonian turned from the pale and flung his fingers at Ivan, the drops of liquid that reached his back felt like heaven even if they were spitefully thrown. "You know nothing of my kind, outlander."

"'Course not, but I heard stories." Ivan wearily stood and began to make his way to the water-barrel.

"Where are you from then?" The Babylonian asked, a subtle growl in his voice. 'Good job, computer! Felt a bit intimidated from that.'

"Texas. You wouldn't know it." As you brought his conjoined hands filled with water up, the Babylonian smacked his palms, dropping the liquid and shoved Ivan back with the same hand pressing against his chest.

Ivan blinked, "Wait a-!" He didn't seem offended nor aggravated by the push, more confused and dazed. 'That didn't…' "Hey, cunt!" Regaining the Babylonian's attention, Ivan swung his right fist straight across the man's face, whom quickly dropped to the ground in short measure.

The other three slaves gawked at the sight, but Ivan stared at his fist and muttered, "That didn't even hurt… what the hell's the point then?" The doctore's whip snapped at Ivan, pain not even occurring with that, shit, not even an ounce of discomfort, leaving said instructor surprised.

"Computer, pause." Ivan ordered quickly, "Save settings to Ivan-Glad number one and end program." The holodeck faded into the room of black tile separated by lines of yellow. Ivan strode out into the corridor then down to a turbo-lift, where it opened sooner than expected and Ivan's eyes widened in surprise, "Ah! La Forge, good to see you. Deck Four!" Ivan stepped into the turbolift alongside the man, "How is being chief engineer on the Flag today?"

The man was staring at him, "Holodeck I take it?" Gesturing up and down with a hand.

'I'm so goddamn forgetful, I can be diagnosed with Alzheimer's.' He was shirtless, the only things covering him were the weird diaper-loin cloth that were used at the time for the equivalent of exercise gear and a pair of what are called 'caliga' for footwear, it's what happens when a generation of sandals breeds with an offshoot of crocs then took up a job at a fetish wear store. "Either that or I had one hell of a soiree. Didn't think these elevators stopped on floors, they just went straight to the destination said."

La Forge rose an eyebrow, "Well, it's not an elevator, it's a turbolift. It doesn't just go up and down, and there are still only so many on the ship, unfortunately."

There was a definite tone to Geordi's voice which tickled Ivan's irritation, if just slightly. ' _Is he trying to throw shade_?' "Really? Cool. Now tell me how those guys on an _Oberth_ class get from the main to the secondary hull."

La Forge smiled briefly, "Badly."

"How's Data?"

"You mean the Lieutenant-Commander?" Looking towards Ivan.

"My man, I ain't in Starfleet, I don't have to keep to the shallow complications of rank."

La Forge didn't answer for a moment, "His positronic net was-"

"Whoa, before you waste your breath on the technobabble on my part, I won't understand it."

Geordi scoffed lightly, "Not exactly surprised. He's okay, he'll be in his chair for a few more days, a week at most."

"I dunno jack about robotics, but if there's any way I can help, please let me know. By the look on your face, I can tell you're confused, I mean things like talking to Data in his quarters, or feeding his cat, or hell, feeding your cat if you're on a roll."

"Data has friends for that. And he has a dog." Geordi finished, before his stop arrived. Without another word, he left.

' _Well, that's different. Wonder if it's called Spot too_?' "Oh goodbye lieutenant! Have a good 'un!" Ivan waved and smiled sarcastically at the man, and then the turbolift continued, "Hope ya have a shit day, ya passive aggressive jackass." He muttered, "Might have to go back to the program and the beat the shit of the Babylonian again." Making his way to the Ship's Store, Ivan came across a cornucopia of items on display, most of which were merely exposed on shelves and pedestals, describing how they were hand-made, home grown, non-replicated goods. Unfortunately, there was no alcohol, but the store could make specialized items that were either not in the Replicator's standard templates, kinda like prescription glasses, and so Ivan walked up to clerk, a Bolian operation's ensign and cheerfully received the sparsely clothed human with, "Greetings! How can I help you this fine day?! No, wait, don't tell me! You would like …" He shook a hand from side to side thinking, "a wonderful, delightful bar of Tellar Chocolate! Been holding a couple dozen in stasis and let me tell you those Tellar Bovines are more than just good meat! Or maybe some Koloid Del-?"

"Pal, if you keep on going, I will raid your food pantry." Ivan laughed as he walked over to the desk, "Looking for something of a… personal nature, something to use in the holodeck?"

"I have a wide array of programs, I just require the genre and I'll see if I have it." He smiled politely.

"No, I mean… ya know how the holodeck can't hurt or injure ya without the safety codes of at least two senior officers? Of course you do! Well, I'm trying to make a program and it… well, got anything that will work with the program to induce pain? Say, maybe by remote nerve induction?"

The Bolian looked very disturbed by the request, "Why in the world would you _desire_ pain in your program?"

"I got this holo-babe lined up, I mean, she strings your ass up, emotionally degrades you, then comes the whips, ball-gags and, my personal favorite, the burning wax candles. You see the problem?"

The ensign's eyes couldn't get any bigger. "Uhhh…"

"Buddy, I'm kiddin'. I'm just making a physical fitness routine and would like to have a carrot-stick scenario for finishing it successfully or not."

The Bolian sighed, "Thank goodness," He began searching the records in the store's database via a panel behind him, "please wait."

After a minute, he brought up the schematics on the screen, "That looks like a Klingon design." Ivan said aloud when he noticed the sheer rigidity, the odd utilitarian element which the Federation seemingly lack.

"You are correct! It's something called an 'Agonizer', an antique by current Klingon standards, but we can use its overall design to make the device you need."

"Well, this thing isn't meant to cause agony, it's supposed to mimic pain, actual pain on individual parts of the body…" He and the ensign traded information over what was to be a training device, no different than ancient discipline devices humans placed on domestic animals, but nowhere near as crude or brute force. It wouldn't leave a mark, cause damage, scar the nervous system and feel a wide range of painful sensations the entire family could enjoy. Not _all_ of them mind you, in fact, the store-attendant mentioned that it wouldn't be able to mimic the exact sensations of being whipped across the back. Ivan didn't even mention what his holoprogram did, he just used it as an example! "You a telepath or something?"

"No no no, you think I'd be working here if I could read people's minds?" He fanned his hands in bemusement. Then he looked down, "Although… ah! Never mind! Enjoy your product, but make sure you get clearance from a medical professional to make sure you can use it safely."

"Oh of course, of course! Good day!" Ivan walked out of the room and scoffed, "Medical professionals… hell do they know?"

Ivan made his way back to the holodeck, restarted his program and attached the devices to his wrists, ankles and the largest around his neck. 'Might as well be BDSM equipment…' "Computer, connect markers to simulate pain."

After a moment, the attachments glowed a faint blue. "Return program thirty seconds before last save." The Ludas Magnus returned to how Ivan remembered it exactly, "Computer, place character AK-1 into… mid haymaker?" Now paused in place, the Babylonian mid swing. Ivan sighed anxiously, placed himself in front of the oncoming brick's path, then said, "Computer… continue program."

Ivan never really rode on a train before. Saw plenty, sure, but he's never really considered what happens when a locomotive going eighty miles per hour then suddenly crashed into a hub-station. Funny, that was the image that popped into his brain when that block of digits clenched into a fist collided with his jaw. That and the feeling that the bottom of his face felt like it had been flayed of all skin and then beaten to a pulp with a cinder block. 'Oh God… the sand is even crunchy when it's in your mouth…'

Despite what could best be described as borderline trauma as far as the nerve inflamers screamed, Ivan began laughing as he massaged his face. "That's it… now we're cookin'…" Ivan pushed himself with a kind of quickened liveliness that belied the phantom injury. The computer generated holo-gladiator managed to block the right jab but failed to foresee Ivan throwing his entire noggin into his opponent's nose.

Ivan yelled back as he grasped his skull, "Yes! There it is! C'mon you sack of replicated matter, gunna show ya how we did shit in Texas!"

The brawl lasted only a second longer, when the doctore's whip slashed across Ivan's back, making him cry out. "Ah fuck! Was I just shot?!" He fell over, feeling as if something had burrowed into his back and started a fire on his spine. "Stop program!"

Ivan turned over, trying to feel for the 'burning' spot, looking for any indication of blood. Not from the gash of a whip, but from a bullet's penetration. Ivan was shot six times, some of them pretty damn close together. Right Ankle, left upper chest, right below the diaphragm, stomach, then his back and ass at the same time. He wasn't sure how he survived half of them, considering that most of the time medical help was usually days away at best… especially from those last two. From what he could remember other than screaming his guts out, the guy had one of those damn three-burst rifles. Did one of the Militia get the guy? They must have… Ivan himself would have shot someone who was bitching at the level he was.

He took a hand back, no blood. "Don't know what a whip feels like… maybe my brain went 'what's the most painful thing you've ever experience'?" Ivan spoke aloud, feeling the pain diminish severely, almost to nothing. The instant the pain was felt, it was like the real thing, but a second after, it was gone, like the merest touch of a hot object. "Computer: adjust stimulators…"

[][][]

"Wooo!" Ivan stretched his arms up as he walked into Ten-Forward, "Round of the house's strongest on me to everyone here!"

Guinan looked around the bar with a Guinan looked around the bar with an ironic pursing of her lips and said, "There's only two people in here excluding you."

"Good, 'cause I'm cheap!" Ivan scanned Ten-Forward and spotted a lone yellow clad junior-lieutenant, staring worriedly between the bartender and Ivan. "You!"

The ensign raised a hand, "Uh s-s-sir, I just want to drink and read in peace."

"Peace is for pussies my man!" Gesturing to Guinan for two glasses, "One round and I leave ya be." Taking two shallow glasses, at first tempted to ask what the milky-amber liquid was but decided that the surprise would make the flavor better, more worthwhile.

The lieutenant sighed as he deactivated his pad and put it to the side of the table when Ivan came by and placed his glass in front of him. Ivan quickly sat in his own chair, grin splitting his face from ear to ear as he toasted, "To Holodecks not breakin' down." Clinking his forced compatriot's glass and quickly downing his cup.

Ivan's eyes widened and the veins of his neck visibly strained, "Holy Jesus…" He was salivating so much, he cupped a hand under his chin to make sure nothing fell on the floor. "It's like… sunscreen mixed with ethanol… little light on the Coppertone." Feeling the effects almost immediately, he spotted the ensign leaning against the table, "You okay, Hoss?"

"N-n-n-not much of a drinker…"

"What was this stuff and how much for the bottle?"

Guinan was smiling with amusement the whole time, "Saurian Brandy. It's pretty young though, wasn't thinking it'd be strong enough to get this reaction out of humans."

Ivan guffawed in delight, " _Spec's_ got nothing on these guys… What's your name?"

"Lieutenant Barclay." His face still scrunged in an induced scowl.

Ivan slapped his head, "Oh now I recognize you! God, I have this thing with forgetting engineers…"

"You heard of me?"

"Ehhh… heard isn't… ah! Does it matter? I'm getting another round, want to join me?" Ivan smiled and slapped his shoulder.

"No, no, I really shouldn't…"

"That'll make it even better!"

Barclay looked truly hesitant, "I-I don't know… I was planning on heading to the holodeck."

Recalling all too well the programs the man conjured, "Brother, I wouldn't want to impose at all, if you got plans, I sure as hell won't keep 'em from ya." Ivan smiled.

Barclay grimaced at the man and nodded shallowly before leaving.

Ivan sighed to himself, feeling bummed slightly from the vacancy. 'Guess I better find something else to do myself…' And not a beat later, Barclay shocked him by getting back in his seat, smiling as he began refilling the draft glasses with the brandy, the tall, curvy bottle in hand.

Before Ivan could scream with glee, Barclay warned, "I have a shift in a few hours, so we have to leave plenty of time for me to sober up for it."

[Five hours later]

"I tell you, the next generation of ships, sign me up no matter how old I am." O'Brian explained to the lieutenant commander as they both paced to Ten-Forward.

"By the time the next line ships come online, I mi-" As the doors opened to the pair.

The two were a witness to a crowd gathered around a table, singing with two of the bar's patrons standing on a table and singing, "- _sharpen your boot and blungeon your eye! Aye… aye… aye! The blarney stone brings a tear to me eye!"_ Swaying slightly as they had an arm over their shoulders, continuing with, " _Went down to the pub, for a two-shilling ale! The bread on the counter is goin' stale! If I don't get some fresh bread soon, I'll punch in your face and bark at the moon!_ "

"Oh dear God, is that _Barclay_?" Geordi stared ahead, quickly stomping forward, moving through the crowd, "Lieutenant!"

The song quickly was silenced as said Starfleet officer shamefully stuttered, "Sir! I uh… well…"

"Oh shit, its management…" Ivan and Barclay drunkenly tried to coordinate how to get off the table, with the former quickly stumbling off and falling onto his back, "Oof! Listen man…" Ivan regained his footing.

"You have a shift in twenty minutes!" Geordi exclaimed at Barclay, but quickly reigned in his temper, "Get to sickbay, get whatever you need in order to be clear headed to work, _then_ I'm going to have a word with you."

"Hey, La Forge, go easy on Barclay, it's my fault that he's hammered worse than Cooter Brown, it's on me." Ivan lifted both hands.

"Be that as it may, he's still a Starfleet officer, and this kind of behavior is completely unacceptable. With someone like you, it's expected, for him and all of us, its-"

"Whoa there, we don't want you to say something you'll regret." Ivan chuckled and cut the man off before he finished his sentence.

"Regret? What?"

"Listen, I'm all for taking insults on the chin and shit, but I'm drunk, you're being unfair to my drinking bud, and despite what I know about you from the boob tube, I just _really_ don't like you." All the while Ivan picked up the fallen bottle of saurian brandy and placed it back on the table. "So behave, or I'll reintroduce what _someone like me_ does when they get pissed." He shrugged, "Besides, why you bitching? He's going to the shift, what's the problem?"

Geordi gave an apalled look at Ivan, "I'm not 'bitching'!"

Ivan pointed at the man's mouth, "Your gums are flappin' and you're complaining about something. That's the definition of bitchitudiness. Quit it while you're ahead. Bitchin' gives folks' headaches."

"Why don't you move on?" O'Brien interjected, "This is a Starfleet matter, please."

"C'mon, don't give me that, I'm a human, I know all the shit in the book you pull. Just give the guy a slap on the wrist and I'll be out of your hair." Ivan gestured to the door and Barclay, "I'm a terrible influence on people so this is certainly an abnormal bit of faltering discipline."

"Your 'terrible influence' got an officer killed and another in critic-" Geordi spoke before Ivan took the nearly empty bottle on the table, smashed its end on the edge.

The human held the sharpened neck in a crude fighting posture and threatened, "Ya wanna even out the numbers?! Let's go!"

[][]

Ivan groggily fell off the bunk onto the floor, "Ah, shit sniffing…" Fearing he'd vomit, Ivan crawled to the nearest wall and sat up against it. When he tried to breathe out of his nose, he met only a blocked set of nostrils and when he touched said trunk, he hissed painfully.

"Councilor, he's up."

Ivan looked confusingly at the surface he reclined on, noting it wasn't a wall in the truest sense, but a tightly lined grid of metallic pipping, so close that he could barely make out what was on the other side. "Yo, anyone out there?"

"Yes, please be quiet, there are others in here sleeping." The man kindly asked.

"Where the hell is 'here'?" Ivan looked around, seeing a meager bunk, a toilet and… that's it. "I'm in the brig." Ivan stood slowly and shook his head, his vision…screwy. That's when he touched his left eye and gave a sharp gasp. "Where's the forcefield?"

"Forcefield, sir?"

"Yeah, they used forc- I mean, I was expecting some kind of futuristic forcefields or something instead of prison bars."

"Such a design would be severely illogical. Power consumption would be taxing and in the chance of a-"

"Wait, wait, wait…" Ivan grinned despite his pounding headache, stood up and faced the prison grid, "You a Vulcan?"

Without a beat, "My father is Vulcan, my mother is Martian."

"But you're one of Surak's boys yeah?"

"In so many words, yes."

"Never met a Martian in the flesh, nice to meet you."

The man didn't respond. At least the one he was talking to, as the denizens of the neighboring cell yelled out, "Oh in Divinity's Edge, shut this human up!" "Princes; damn the monkey!" They spoke in turn.

"What is with the monkey jokes? My mama would be _sooo_ goddamn offended…" Ivan spat under his breath, "I 'sume you guys are the Iruujin prisoners?" He was met with silence, "Well, if ya are, I just want you to know, that when I'm done with you, your families will weep bloody fucking tears when they see your cold, dead co-!"

"Ivy."

Said man quickly was silenced by the monotone warning and made him stare ahead at the one who said it. "Whoa D, you sure you should be walking around? You don't look too good."

The android in question looked like he had taken a dive in a volcano, scorches singed his neck and face, and despite the Starfleet uniform covering up his torso, could see a visible divot in his chest where the phaser impacted. "I am satisfactorily repaired to do the duty I have been assigned. Please sit."

Ivan himself wasn't working at full capacity either and simply sat down at the spot where he stood, "So what's up?"

Data looked down at the human with a tinge of confusion, "Councilor Troi believes I would be a better choice in the investigating of your motives due to our relationship. What can you remember?"

"Dick-head in a visor said a couple things I didn't like… uhm… I think a truck may have hit me… why? What did I miss?"

"The brawl in Ten-Forward has had a total of seven non-fatally injured, including two command officers."

"Two?"

"Lieutenant-Commander La Forge and Chief of Security Worf."

Ivan blinked, "How the hell did someone injure a guy like _him_? The dude looks like an alien brickhouse."

Data turned his head slightly, "You truly cannot recall?"

"Data, me and Berk were singing Irish drinking tunes. I doubt braincells could get more fried then that."

"Worf and a security team came to quell the fight, you challenged him, and he defeated you." Data stated matter-of-factly.

Ivan touched his eye again and cringed, "Hope not too quickly.", Data didn't respond to that, and looked on as the man shook his head, "Christ… what are the charges? How does this work?"

"You are a civilian, this vessel does not have the appropriate staff to carry on with trial or conviction. So, for the time; you are hereby confined to the brig until such a time a civilian court at Starbase Four-oh-Three."

Ivan sniffed and looked down, "Seems about right, I guess? Why do I feel like I've been through a lawnmower? Finally run out my welcome out in sickbay?"

"You declined medical attention earlier. Do you have any further questions?" Data inquired.

"Yeaaah, how are you doing? How long before you're up to snuff?"

"Current repairs have been delayed due to La Forge's confinement to sick-bay, and his replacement is not as familiar with my systems as he was."

Ivan could have sworn he detected a tone of condemnation, "Oh shit… sorry. Wasn't thinking with my head at the time I… I uh… what exactly did I do to Geordi?"

"The lieutenant-commander has suffered three broken ribs, missing left central and lateral incisors, cracked visor and a moderate concussion."

Ivan placed his face in his palms, "Jesus, I really went to town on him." He spoke quietly, tinged with rue. "The others?"

"Minor injuries in comparison, due to the use of several articles of furniture from Ten-Forward. Most were simply thrown to keep the security team away."

"What about Worf?"

Data paused a moment, staring at Ivan. "Uh… D?"

"He had a nail bed injury and bruises along the knuckles of the right fist." Data quickly answered.

Ivan gave a sharp chuckle, "Explains the missing tooth in the back here. And I thought I could actually manage to hurt the son of Mogh… I'm such a dumbass…"

"By all the gods; _shut up_!" One of the Iruujin demanded childishly.

Ivan instantly spat back, "Why don't you shut up you scum-suck?!" Turning back to the android, "Can I go to their cell? I mean, I only just want to talk to them."

Data squinted slightly at Ivan, "I have a suspicion that is a lie."

Ivan barked a breath of laughter, "Hey, you got me!"

[][]

Three days of shitting in front of a security officer followed by a boredom that seemed only to compound in comparison to his house arrest from earlier. He was allowed to read off a padd for two hours under monitor of the security-hoo-ha at the time, _per day_ and on the third day he was taken to the gym in cuffs, so he could ' _exercise_ ' for a half hour. Which was confined to the treadmill and only the treadmill. It took Ivan twenty minutes to figure out how the thing worked…

"C'mon man, you didn't explain jack on how to get this, _this_ -" Ivan's handcuffs rattled as he pointed at the treadmill, which had every glowing button the rainbow plus several he was sure the human couldn't see in the visible spectrum. "-epileptic seizure! Just five extra more minutes!"

The Vulcan, Martian or whatever species of pointy-eared douchebag he was, didn't respond and just stared at Ivan waiting for the prisoner to make a move that could be considered threatening or contrary to his imprisonment.

"Great! I'm only confined to a jog and have a mute for a prisoner guard." As soon as he started the machine up, the gym's doorway opened. Ivan didn't stop the machine the instant he saw this person due to recognition, it was the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous. Even for a Klingon.

"Whoa… who's the babe?" She was probably four inches taller than Ivan was, and her outfit only made her curves seemed even more… uh… curved? Well whatever her red suit did, it made Ivan practically drool on the console. Not that she was trying to be the seductress that apparently stole his soul away the moment he saw her, in fact she was stiff, huffing and puffing, marched to the nearest punching bag (it looked like one at least), yelled out and decked it so hard it toppled over in a single blow.

For some reason, seeing it made his nose hurt, but he called out, "Hey, what did that thing do to you? Owe you money?" The Klingon snapped her gaze to Ivan, and momentarily felt terrified before he managed to bite it back and smile, "Well, I knew a guy whose father was allergic to peanuts and was hospitalized for a month for it. Does the same thing when he sees a bowl of cashews."

That savagery, the inhuman rage that burned in her eyes towards him and the security guy flared then spent to embers as she gave a small smile. "Explains your face. Sounds like he went a little nuts."

Ivan was taken aback, shocked but then he sputtered, nodded and laughed. "Good one!"

"This gym is meant to be vacant, ma'am." The Vulcan spoke up, "The prisoner will return to the brig in two minutes, you may use it then."

"Prisoner?" While the Klingon anger was still present and leaked into her voice in husky tone, but then she grinned from ear to ear, " _You_ are the monster that destroyed the bar and hospitalized three Starfleet officers? The way Worf described you, I expected the creature he fought to be seven feet tall, had scales and was green from head to toe."

"Worf? You know him?" Ivan was astounded, but his brain started to recognize certain elements that seemed somewhat familiar.

The question seemed to breathe some life back into the embers of her rage and she grimaced, "Unfortunately." But then grinned devilishly, "I know _you_ know him. Didn't think Worf was allergic to nuts."

Ivan gave a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. "We should make a club. What he do to… who are you?"

She tilted her head slightly before looking at Ivan, "I'm K'Ehleyr."

Ivan's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, "I'm… shit." The memory of this episode all rushing back to him.

"Your parents sound like awful people to name their child that."

"Oh! I uh, I um. Sorry, I'm Ivan and I'd shake your hand but…" He jingled his handcuffs and smiled, "But good luck with the Klingons!" The Vulcan guard walked to Ivan's side, "That's my ride. I'd recommend deception, Klingons never expect that! Maybe you should…" The Vulcan unlatched his cuffs then clasped them over both both wrists, "make yourself this ship's captain and yell at those guys until they believe you oh! If you're still pissed off enough, I have this holo-program which you can _really_ goto town on whoever ya want, named Ivan pr…" Ivan's voice carried off as the security officer dragged him out of the gym and down the corridor.

K'Ehleyr inclined her head slightly, "How does he know about the Klingons?"

[][][]

"You gotta think; issues with personal culture or not, how does someone just _leave_ a babe like that?" Ivan spoke to no one. Well, he was sitting on his toilet and spoke to the wall, and for the first twenty minutes, the Iruujin he was next to were enormously vocal on him being silent, but then after that were enormously silent themselves and just let the human prattle on. "Worf's one of my favorites characters, right next to Data, and that was all before _DS-Nine_ where he was a badass, not like now where he's getting the shit kicked out of him every week and is, or should I say, will be the worst father of the decade, but I can't help but be skeptical of him considering how he left K'Ehleyr. I may not remember how she looked back when she was a kid, but _Holy Jesus_ , if it meant shacking with that half-Klingon goddess and listening to how her day was for the rest of my life, I'd collar myself, give her the lead and let her drag me around like a dumbass Labrador Retri-"

"Ahem!"

Ivan's heart sunk to his stomach in embarrassment and rested there like a lead ball as he slowly turned his head to who desired his attentions. He made eye contact with a half-Klingon goddess whose grin was both mirthful and pitying.

Ivan stared straight ahead again and groaned lowly, "No-no-no-no-no…" He pinched his nose and asked, "How much?"

"Caught you at Jesus, I'm flattered by the way. Let him out." She ordered the guard. The ribbings of metal laid over his cell quickly returned to the energy projectors at the edges of its opening.

Ivan stood, unable to look her directly in the eye, "So. What do you need me for?"

"I'd like someone with a sense of humor to advise me on how to deal with the Klingons. You are aware of the situation, yes?"

"Klingons frozen in time, let adrift for a century or so, told to kill anything that looks Federationy?"

"On the nose, follow me."

"With ple- yes! No problem." He quickly walked in stride with K'Ehleyr, walking to the archives where she currently worked, only having the furnishings of several chairs, consoles and a desk. As Ivan took a seat near the desk, he asked, "Seriously, why did you get me out of there? And how? Who with and-?"

"Ten minutes ago, before you ask. Picard, I mentioned you somehow knew of the situation, with my great charm and endearing character, and because a combination of Picard's unusual eagerness when it came to when I asked for you, that and how Worf may have said once or twice that you knew a lot about Klingons."

Ivan nodded, "Okay uh… the thing is probably under-cloak, but it's the Twenty-Third century stuff and may-"

"I'm sorry?" K'Ehleyr stopped and scoffed, "What's a cloak, exactly?"

"What do you mean?" Ivan smiled, "You're joking right? Cloaking shields? Were traded with the Romul-" Ivan stopped and re-realized what universe he was in and how he completely and utterly lacked Romulans. "Um… never mind, thinking of another race… is the vessel located?"

"Of course." The half-breed sighed and crossed her arms. "Our objective is to make certain that the ship and its crew are mostly unharmed and returned to Imperial space."

"Oh… well, at least is it a D-Seven? A K'Tinga? Maybe even a Bird-of-Prey?"

She gave him a frustrated sideways glance, "You were doing so well… what race has a 'Bird-Of-Prey' vessel?"

Ivan's face irked, "None you know. Okay, so is it's shields up? Why not separate the crew from the ship? Keep them in suspension in the cargo-hold?"

"It's a D-10 prototype, the ship is set up in such a way that if a single member of its crew tries to beam away, it will trigger a self-destruct device which would equal the _Enterprise's_. Besides, we are afraid of further tampering in the case that the vessel may also destruct if it was happened upon by scavengers." K'Ehleyr looked positively frustrated, "And Worf certainly doesn't know what to do…"

"Well this is new."

"What was that?"

Ivan stared off as he thought, "Got anything to drink? I haven't had a drop in three days and I think better with a buzz."

K'Ehleyr grinned, "I like the way you think, but I don't-"

Ivan clapped his hands and jumped out of his seat, "Wait, wait, wait!" Pointing at her with both hands, "Are you familiar with the Right of Blood-Peace!?"

"That's… centuries old." K'Ehleyr stared at Ivan like he had suddenly grown a second head. "How did you know about it?"

"I studied a bit of General Chang, brilliant man but bit of a cheeseball with his _Shakespeare_ shit. He's kinda like a Klingon version of the Captain when I think about it…" In all honesty, he remembered the Star Trek game _Klingon Academy_ , loved the shit out of that game and he couldn't count how many times he played it. "He used it to settle the conflict with the House of G'logh, and considering how close the times are with this vessel and that war-"

"It would put pressure on them to abide by the Right and they undoubtedly would remember it!" K'Ehleyr finished the plan, "But how would this stop the Klingons from carrying on their mission? They were assigned by the High Council themselves in order to accomplish this…"

"But if it was ordered by the old, the dead, the very members who formed an alliance with the Federation to begin with-"

"The act could possibly be seen as dishonorable but wouldn't make former members or their orders seem illegitimate."

"Until you consider how the Houses that desired to halt the signing of the Treaty of Khitomer used foreign aid in the Iruujin and Starfleet dissidents to usurp the talks, how Klingons assassinated members of the council former and how Kirk saw to retain truth and dignity of the Klingon people, that honor mandated they follow the orders of the council current and return home for battles against new foes." Ivan went on a tangent, thoughts circling around the three blades of the Heart of Virtue: Honor, Loyalty and Duty, all compounded, crumbled and then built up again considering the machinations of Klingon politics.

Hearing nothing from the half-breed and turned to her and saw her wearing a gummy smile that bordered on Cheshire territory. "Ever consider becoming part of an ambassadorial staff?"

Ivan felt his face warm at her expression and he turned away, "Actually when you mention it; no."

"Not a lot of humans understand Klingons like you do… hell, not a lot of Klingons even."

Ivan was stunned at the compliment and muttered, "Uhhh… it's only because I… don't understand humans too well…"

She gave a cursory, confused glance before she started walking again, "You know, as your goddess…" She gestured to herself in an over exaggerated arm movement, "I will take full credit of this idea. _If_ it works."

Ivan's face felt like it was on fire as he wiped his face with a hand in mortification.

"From what I've heard of your wit, I am quite disappointed." She continued to tease.

"Bite me ya dink!" Ivan he seethed but then instantly regretted.

The hybrid laughed heartily, "I've only known you for a half hour, slut."

Ivan had to catch himself from laughing, "Something about you just makes me swoon." He tried to sound sarcastic but it sounded far more authentic then intended and he sputtered, "O-okay, so what else is do we need? We have the means to disarm them, but it requires that someone on the crew act, challenge and kill the captain like a Klingon, we have you, Worf and Captain Picard for that, we can purty ya'll up in KDF uniforms, and when we win, you'll take them back to Klingon space for reintroduction, what else does that leave us to plan for?"

K'Ehleyr shrugged, "You seemed to have covered everything. I can already see my promotion from here."

Ivan scoffed, "Yeah, well I'm probably gunna get fuck all anyways. Probably wind up in some rehabilitation prison-colony considering everythin'. Somebody gotta make use of this shit."

The half-human looked at Ivan with a pitying glance, before quietly saying, "I'll call the officers to the Ready Room. Guard," She looked to the security officer across the room, "take him back to the brig."

Ivan gave a defeated sigh but gave a small smile, "I really liked this. We should do it again sometime." He suggested sardonically as the guard slapped the set of cuffs back on his wrists.

"Absolutely." K'Ehleyr leant on the desk. Ivan couldn't tell if she was playing along or if she actually meant it, 'Damn you, hormones! I can't tell if the babe's sarcastic!'

To say Ivan was sick of the waiting game was the understatement of the millennia, but he was nervous as all hell for any word to come back if everything was alright. Which only made things move slower. And while the idea that the plan would lead to this ship getting blown up quickened his mind, the idea that he may have diverted the timeline farther then from what he knew terrified him even more. Specifically, if he may have prevented the conception of Alexander, Worf and K'Ehleyr's son. How much would that fuck up Worf's character? Not that he was much of a father in the first place, practically dumped the brat on his adopted parents first chance he could.

Keeping track of time in a cell was difficult enough, but maybe two hours or so, one of the officers that guarded the brig came to his cell, opened it and ordered, "Out slowly."

Ivan didn't want to seem too eager as he walked out and said nothing as he was cuffed and led out of the brig. Finally, being led to the Ready Room, Ivan spotted three individuals at the end of the table, Picard, Worf and K'Ehleyr. The time and universe cast Murphy straightened up in mock attention, "Reporting for duty."

The Captain sat at the head of the table, "I understand that you know the subtilites of Klingon society and politics."

Ivan turned his head slightly, "Subtleties… right. What do ya need from me?"

"I'm sending a team to the Klingon vessel; the emissary has a plan to confront the captain. I'm requesting volunteers for a team and ask that you escort K'Ehleyr and lieutenant Worf."

Ivan smiled slowly, rubbing his neck, "What the hell, I ain't got nothin' planned today."

[][][]

"Get the men to their stations and get this tug moving!" The _T'Ong'_ s captain ordered to the second officer, whose eyes were still glazed from their icy stasis, but reacted quickly enough, breaking away from the bridge officers as they made their way down the battlecruisers neck to the bridge.

"Make sure all the safeties are disengaged, I don't want our first battle to activate the subspace shockwave device the first second weapons are charged. You! Make certain we have fresh targets every half cycle, if the Federation has a remote farming-world nearby, I want to know how many work it and what they grow!" The officers understood their place, taking their captain's orders as law even as many parts of their brain were slow to wake. "And when the Federation finally take note of us, make sure we-!" The captain stared inside the D-Ten's vacant bridge. Quickly pulling out his disruptor, he demanded, "Who are you!?"

"Ah, finally you wake, Jot, son of Palleth. We have been sent to return you, this crew and ship home." A Klingon in the garments of a sub-general spoke, stepping ahead several paces from his group.

"What are these… humans doing here?! Why do they carry the marks of the Empire?" He pointed the disruptor towards the trio of humans.

"These are my officers, soldiers of the Empire!" The Sub-General bellowed, "You will give them the respect they earned through blood and duty, old fool!"

"Humans serving the empire?! Only way a human can truly serve Klingon ideals is under the heel of conquest!"

"Did it not occur to you that the war is over?!"

"The Federation still stands, then this war will never end!"

The Sub-General slowly approached the captain, "Know this: I am Worf, Son of Mogh and I hereby I declare the Right of Blood Peace. Your officers and mine will be witnesses." Gesturing to one of the humans, "Give him a blade and let him stand forth."

A human of darker skin walked forward, knelt as he presented a Bat'leth to Worf whom quickly took it up as he shed his cloak of command, and then slowly walked towards the antiquated, ridgeless Klingons, and then again knelt as he presented a second Bat'leth to the captain.

Slowly taking it up, Jot looked down at the human, "And if I desire to test this blade? To ensure that it wasn't dishonored, profaned for this duel…?"

The human stood and smiled at the Klingon, "It's a good day to die."

Jot smirked at him, "Who are you?"

"Ivan, son of Chester."

Jot and Ivan stared for several seconds, unspeaking. "Move, son of Chester, before I cut you half to get to your commander."

Ivan glared only a moment longer before stepping to the side and allowing Jot to walk forward.

[][]

Ivan was anxious to watch this fight, and while he was expecting the cheesy, uncoordinated hand-to-hand fights from the television, what was witnessed was everything but. When the swords clashed, the met with such strength that the sound of the metal clanging made Ivan's teeth hurt, and while some of the swings were club-like and crude, there were maneuvers and definitive different styles to both of these warriors; Worf had an odd mix between sheer and brutally swift strikes mixed alongside quick movements, doges and only blocking his opponent when he can return a quick, freehanded strike, all the while, Jot was stationary, defensive, keeping his feet firm and slowly moving, his blade striking out long as Worf moved around him, and quickly catching ground when his opponent either blocked or he backed off.

Ivan held his breath several times, Jot may have been near a century in stasis and his body showed it with his supremely defensive focus, but he was undoubtedly a veteran of many duels, and he spotted weaknesses and points to exploit far faster then Worf could, and when Jot's Bat'Leth caught Worf's heel, both cutting into his foot and flooring the Starfleet officer, he thought it was over and as Jot brought his Bat'Leth down, Worf rolled, harshly against the weight of his injured foot, and stabbed his sword forward as the unbalanced captain met air with his killing stroke.

Worf gave a final push, Jot grasping at the blade as it bit under his left arm, piercing his ribs and claimed his hearts, his death throes futilely trying to pull out the weapon. As Jot fell over, Bat'Leth stuck and pointing up, Worf bit back his pain, stood, looking to the _T'Ong_ 's remaining bridge crew and declared, "Your mission is over!"

The next couple of hours were unusually mundane for both the Klingons and the _Enterprise_ crew, with Worf confirming that he was transferring command, the means of the prior officer's death, and despite the grisly subjects at hand, were more like monotonous moments of paperwork to the _T'Ong_.

Ivan was walking to the infirmary, still clad in his Klingon uniform, seeing Worf on the biobed and approached, "Hey big man, how long will you be grounded?" Gesturing to the equipment that covered his heel, laying in the bed and typing at a data-padd.

Worf didn't look at Ivan with a, "Too long."

Ivan nodded, "Know what you mean. I assume K'Ehleyr will be taking the _T'Ong_ 's reigns back to Qo'noS… when does she leave?"

"Within the next hours." His jaw locked in frustration.

Ivan's eyebrow rose, "So what the hell are you doing here? It's not like something like that would keep ya down." Worf glared at the human in confusion, "What? It's obvious she cares about you."

He looked down for a moment in… dispirit? Klingons were hard to read. Meeting his gaze again before refocusing on the padd.

Ivan sighed, "Do you know if she'll be visiting you?"

"I'd rather she didn't." Worf intoned.

' _Good enough answer for me!_ ' Ivan smiled, "Okay, see ya around, I'll tell her you said hi."

Ivan could _feel_ Worf's glare on his back as he left sickbay, but it didn't stop his desire to see the hybrid again, maybe for the last time.

Ivan inquired the computer to her location, in a holodeck of all things and went to the one specified. He typed in the console to request entry, and instead of her asking who it was, the door just opened. He paced in slowly and met the familiar sight of his own holo-program, the sand gritting beneath his feet, the sound of wooden swords slamming against shields and practice dummies filled the air, as Ivan walked through the unguarded gates of the Ludas, he saw K'Ehleyr going to town on a trio of gladiators. Ivan was unsure if the settings had been modified for easier enemies or if her strength was simply just that much stronger than her opponents.

He walked cautiously to the fight, and only when he was a dozen paces away did Murphy see the Doctore on the ground, a pool of blood formed around his head. "Something tells me you don't like men with whips."

K'Ehleyr brought her wooden sword on one last opponent, a sickening crunch was head even before his body met the sand. "Pause program!" She turned towards Ivan, her remaining foes still.

' _I swear, my dicks gunna drill through these weird ass Klingon trousers.'_ The half-breed was clad in only a pair of pants and what looked like the equivalent of a sports bra, her hair clung to her ridges, and her body was slick in sweat. ' _Don't drool, don't drool, dron't dool… drooron't…_ ' "Something tells me you won't be able to copy and take it aboard that battlecruiser and you're getting your kicks now while you still can."

"Very astute…" She wiped her forehead with her arm, "Was expecting Worf."

"You and me both. Hope I'm not too boring for you." Ivan picked up one of the discarded wooden swords, "Ain't much with blades, but want to go a round? I've been lacking some decent exercise."

"First, you're wearing too much…" She pointed him up and down with her sword.

Ivan took off the stuffy Klingon jacket-vest, "Well, if I'm taking something off why don't-"

Ivan felt the pressure of K'Ehleyr's sword on his collarbone but felt practically no impact from the holo-weapon. "This sword is heavy enough to cave in a human skull, and from what I can remember, breaking one of these…" Tapping against the bony protrusion, "hurts a lot more with humans."

"Unfortunately, I'm very human. Klingons have a thing with collarbones, right? Some kind of luck thing?"

"You can say that. Get the sword up, another easy win and I'll break your neck barehanded."

Ivan smiled confidently, "Promises, promises."

He barely lasted twenty swings before the round was over, disarming him or just overpowering through his blocks and getting a strike at his neck or center.

By round fifty or so, Ivan was sweatier then she was, "Okay, okay, Jesus…" He lifted both hands, "You win, I've already been beaten by a Klingon badly already, doing it twice isn't much better."

"Half-human." She looked skeptically at him.

"Hard to forget. Don't get me wrong, you're an amazing Klingon, but of all the things you've retained from your human side, the teeth are definitely a plus." He smiled pointing at her.

K'Ehleyr looked abashed, "Thanks, I guess?"

Ivan hissed, scratching his head, "Shit, sorry, I'm not good when talking with pretty women. I uh…" He muttered a couple things under his breath, "Listen, I'm not saying I will, but if I happen to be in Klingon space and in your local sector, would you like to get a raktajino sometime?"

"I hate raktajino." She stated plainly.

Ivan felt a nail in his stomach but bit it back, 'Well… I asked.' "Oh, that's fine. Was a crap shoot. Good meeting you though and if, for some reason, I'm in the diplomatic corp or something-"

"Coffee. Human coffee." K'Ehleyr stated. "I doubt there's an ounce of human coffee in the empire, so if you ever arrive in the area, please bring as much as you can." She shrugged and smiled.

Ivan's elation was barely contained, "Alright! Uh human coffee it is." He fidgeted back and forth slightly, "Uh not sure what to um… do now so, I'll be heading to the brig or something, uh…" He lifted his hand. "See ya around?"

K'Ehleyr shook his hand with a surpring degree of tenderness. "Sounds good."

Ivan left the holodeck and when the door to the place closed he sighed and cursed, "God, why are you such a retard?" Wiping his face, "'Durrrr if I'm ever in the area, wanna raktajino durrr'… fuck me…" Pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced to the turbolift. "Ten-Forward please."

Sitting at one of the tables, a waiter approached and as he asks what he wanted, "Wait, you're Ivan right?"

Said man's face irked, "Uh oh, am I banned from the watering hold?"

"No, of course not. I will have to inform security however."

"Get me a double of whiskey and a beer, keep 'em coming and you can inform whoever ya want." He lazily waved a hand at him, "Guinan in?"

"No, she's off shift." He answered before running away.

Slightly thankful, he laid his head on the table. "Just another week in the brig, then its station-city and I'm out of this ship." Despite the dream of being this ship as a child, now it seems so… upsetting. He doesn't have a job here, is bored out of his mind, and the brief occurrences of excitement like today are tempered by what feels like whole months of doing null to zilch. Worse, he's practically the ship's pariah. All the people here… they're nothing like the people he's used to, and maybe that's a good thing. ' _Maybe a couple years in a prison getting' propaganda drilled in my brain_ _would do me and everyone else some good_.'

The drinks were placed on the table, Ivan straightened himself up and just as he placed the edge of the whiskey on his lips, he spotted a certain La Forge walk into the bar. "Ah shit. Cloaking device, activate please…" Shooting down the beverage and coughing, ' _Shit, is this fucking rye?_ '

"Mister Murphy…" La Forge sighed.

"Listen man, I don't-"

"I want to apologize."

"-really re- wait, what?"

"I want to apologize for my behavior. I was… overly antagonistic and should have approached the situation befitting a Starfleet officer." He looked uncomfortable during the whole thing.

"Pal… I fucking hospitalized ya, why the hell are you apologizing to me?" Geordi was looking from side to side, or at least Ivan thought he was, "They order you to?"

"Yes." He spoke lowly.

"Man, I-I accept, but I should also be apologizing to you. I'm really sorry about that night… or day, but whatever it was…" Ivan stood up and face the man, "I'm really sorry, let bygones be bygone, yeah?" Offering his hand.

Geordi shook it, "Also, I'm supposed to inform you that you're confined to quarters."

Ivan sharply grasped the engineer's hand and saw his face nettle a bit. "Oookay… gunna finish this round and the next and… back to den… at least I'll have a decent shitter."

[][]

 **Good golly Miss Molly, I am so sorry this update took so long! Been a crazy month. Or two. Tried that weird applesauce in the pouch, helped choose a costume for my pet for Halloween, got married. Not that any of them are connected, but they were massive hurdles that disrupted the carefully cultivated ecosystem which is my existence. For better or worse. I didn't like the applesauce.**


	4. 4- Cursed Paradise

Cursed Paradise:

Martians can't truly and completely suppress their emotions, that is blatantly clear to the vulcanoids themselves, but to all others, it's not understood in the fullest that they still had… vestiges, motes of it, no matter how subtle that occasionally reach the surface.

One such speck of sensation ran through T'Kitt's mind as he saw his distant family member exit the spaceport, a tiny gleam of shame at the disheveled human. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in over a week, sporting an ill-kempt head of black hair and a swagger that belied either a sense of fatigue or intoxication and as Ivan was looking around the busy exit of where Elysia met and access to the rest of the solar-system began, he pulled a flask out of his pocket and tipped it up for several seconds, contently closing his eyes before continuing his search.

The Martian stopped trying to meet his ancestor halfway and went directly to him, no longer able to hold up a sign. "Mister Murphy."

Ivan's eyes widened, and he smiled from ear to ear, "T'Kitt!" He started approaching him as if he was going to hug the Martian, but quickly stopped, shook his head and gave a Sarakian salute and spoke, "Dif tor heh smusma." Despite smelling the pungent smell of alcohol at his throaty pronunciation, was quite impressed by both his restraint and understanding of Martian social etiquette.

T'Kitt turned his head slightly, "You know Vulcan?"

"Just the important bits: hello, goodbye, where's the bathroom, are you single. Thank you for coming to get me, I thought you wouldn't be able to." He grinned at his descendant, pulled out the flask and took a sip.

"I will have to goto a meeting after I drop you off, the plan of staying at my neighbor's store is still the end result." The Martian lifted an arm and pointed towards the more sparsely populated landing zones where he and his current, temporary caretaker found the latter's hovercar and quickly sped away from the lot deeper into the city.

From the altitude, Ivan was able to see the greater vistas of the Martian surface; it still looked like a barren planet, but if he and this city proved anything, is that terraforming was an undoubted success. Other than the nippy air, the city didn't have a dome, the citizens didn't wear environmental gear (if the thick bundles of coats and scarves didn't count), and inside the city he spotted points of greenery and the in the closest one he saw, he identified a group of _trees_. Despite the foliage being common occurrence everywhere in the universe, seeing these here made Ivan grin like a retard that farted an uncomfortable pocket of gas.

"How was your flight?" T'Kitt inquired passively.

Could Vul- goddamn- _Martians_ get uncomfortable from silences? They are social creatures, like other humanoids, so maybe it was more instinctual then emotionally dependent. "It was alright. The _Enterprise_ delivered me to the station, been hopping shuttles and freighters for a week."

"What was your ruling with the civilian council?"

Ivan shrugged, "I had a contact in the Federation Diplomatic Corp who vouched on my behalf, but I had been barred from free travel to other worlds until further notice." He hated that goddamn trial. Not just how short it took, barely lasting the day, but they filled it with platitudes and baseless presumption. Who can people judge others on 'possible intent' in an actual court? Either he got the judge and jury on a bad day, or they just _really_ didn't like him. Ivan expected the opposite, that a Federation trial would take exceedingly long, and the judge and jury would be sympathetic to a fault, a trial run by hippies in all respects. It was odd that all elements of the trial were run by humans, he expected several different species and at least a modicum of compassion. After the whole thing was done with, he was certain if K'Ehleyr didn't put in her five-cents, Ivan would be at a prison colony this moment. "It was pretty okay."

"I'm sure you will find Ares a very agreeable place." T'Kitt nodded.

"I'm tickled with goosebumps just looking at it." Ivan continued scanning the city, noting a massive, cathedral like building that clashed with the neighboring buildings in both height and architecture. An organic needle to the blocky, near windowless offices and apartments, a compound of greenery surrounding the massive structure. "Whoa, what's that?"

"New Mount Seleya. It was constructed by a combination of humans and martians at the beginning of the century, based on the human pagodas and pre-Vel'Mid temples."

"Vel'Mid? That was the guy who conquered Vulcan right?"

"Yes, the leader of the Raptors whom established the First Expansion era of the Vulcan system and neighboring stars. He led many purges of ancient Vulcan architecture, and those that remained were often analyzed then the plans were archived by the Surak underground."

"Ever visit the place? Looks cool!"

T'Kitt rose an eyebrow, "It's used to cleanse the mind of distractions, it is the farthest thing from 'cool' there is."

"Personal experiences, I trust?"

"Just the once. I found the encounter was most… disagreeable, uncomfortable."

Ivan chuckled, "Wow, it sounds as if you didn't like it."

"I do not like nor dislike the experience."

"Speaking of Martian experiences; I heard Spock was a big celebrity here."

T'Kitt quickly replied, "In a way. Many see him as a bridge between humans and martians, and his talks with the Vulcans has seen massive improvements in their continued integration alongside his fame from being the _Enterprise's_ first-officer."

"He visits the planet any?"

"Not for a year, he's a highly experienced diplomat and sought after for his skill and impartiality."

Ivan was a little disappointed, but in the end; what the hell would he even say to the man? 'Holy shit, I'm such a huge fan!'? Besides, if his experiences on the _Enterprise_ has taught him anything, maybe he should be as far away from these characters as possible. The thought was sincere, but sour, and made him swig another gulp of Antarean Brandy. "So, what do you do? What kind of meeting are ya having?"

"I am the tertiary health advisor to Imports and Exports of Ares and its natural satellites. We are having a meeting over the recent issues of lightly radioactive materials being used in the manufacturing of certain replicators, whether or not they should be recalled."

"Sounds very important! I'm envious." Tipping the closed flask towards the Martian before putting it back in his pocket. "What kind of pad does your neighbor have? What's his name, by the way?"

"His name is William Davis, he owns an antiques store."

"Wait… how can someone own an antique store? What does he buy and sell with?" Ivan gave a puzzled look towards the Martian.

"What does owning an antique store have to do with commerce?"

"Well, it's a _store_."

"I was told your sensibilities were a bit old fashioned. Seems me taking you to this place is more appropriate than originally conceived."

Ivan gave a brief glare at the man before he sputtered a withheld chuckle, "Okay, that was a pretty good jibe. Didn't think martians could joke."

"Most martians you'll meet on Ares will have adapted a few human habits, whether they wanted to or not. If I recall correctly; there's a martian comedy club downtown someplace."

"Okay, I know the first place I'm visiting!" Ivan laughed at the image of a Martian standing on a stage, dulling stating jokes in a deadpan tone and somehow rocking the house's crowd in laughter.

After a couple of minutes, Ivan noted that T'Kitt was no longer actively piloting the craft, the computer quickly driving it towards a clustering of other hovercars as they began to enter the more densely packed areas of the city, where the school of vehicles stopped a massive, floating ring, several bulbs of red light blinking along its sides. "These are traffic lights? Woulda thunk we'd be past these… hey, why aren't we teleporting around? Surely this planet has a transport grid!"

"We do have restrictions and rationings of energy usage." T'Kitt sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "Using this vehicle for twelve hours straight would equal to a single beaming in terms of power consumption."

"Huh." Unsure of what else to say.

Ivan and T'Kitt waited at the 'traffic-wheel' for a couple minutes in utter silence before Ivan broke it, asking, "Hey, can we turn on the radio or something?"

"This vehicle isn't equipped with a Subspace Radio."

"I mean, does it have music? Or something to take the mind off the road?"

"We're not on a road."

Ivan was close to letting the frustration he was getting from T'Kitt being too pedant. "I mean, doesn't this car have somethin' or another to keep its occupants entertained?"

"It does not." He quickly replied. "Next time, please bring something with you. My children often bring things to read or complete homework."

Ivan smiled, "You have kids? What are their names? H-How old are they?"

"I have a son and a daughter whom are sixteen and ten, named Saudul and T'Len respectively."

"So, are you married?"

Ivan swore T'Kitt flinch a bit, and after a pause, he replied with a simple, "No."

"Sooo…?"

"We had divorced three years ago." Without a beat. "Her name was Suzan and I would prefer not speaking of this anymore."

"Hey, say no more." Ivan lifted both hands. Unless Martians started adopting human names, she sounded like he was married with a one.

A moment later, the traffic-wheel's lights glowed blue and the vast flock of hover-vehicles began to flow through it. Ivan assumed it used not only to regulate traffic but keep track of everyone and where they were going, but if the vehicles were automated, wouldn't this kind of control be pointless? The computers would just coordinate between each other better than anything an organic operator can deal with, so why have it used only beyond a certain point?

'Maybe there was some kind of prohibition against developing such technology? Or maybe it was tried before in the past and just didn't work?' There was no issue against making Data or the concept of making more androids like him, and if they are willing to allow transport technology to be commonplace, something quite capable of both fatal accidents and mishaps, why would automated vehicles be an issue? 'Maybe they're just stupid.'

Descending towards an open block next to a closely clustered neighborhood of buildings, the hovercar's capsule opened on Ivan's side and T'Kitt spoke quickly, "His store is going to be the fifth on the right, called 'Great Grandma's House'."

Ivan reached into the back seat, got his duffel bag and got out of the car, saying just as quick, "Peace and long life." Waving him away as the car closed and climbed back up into the blue, clear sky.

Ivan strode along the sidewalk, getting an eyeful of the nearby lots, buildings and a few people. Despite his jet-leg screaming that it was closer to midnight, it was midday on Ares, and the people who were around were likely on the hunt for lunch, or otherwise be on a break from their occupation or duty.

There also seemed to be a lot more humans then Ivan was impressed upon initially, reminding himself that Elysia was a human colony long before the Martian and Vulcan refugees fled their empire and came here. If he needed anymore evidence to the fact, the buildings, usually made of strict, straight and flawlessly lined metals, but now he was seeing shorter buildings, built from red-bricks, concrete or clay lining between each and if Ivan looked hard enough, he could find that certain blocks were unevenly dispersed, if slightly and the imperfection was more beautiful to his eyes then any piece of art he has seen yet. It was built by hand, flawed, foolish and lazy. As Ivan started walking across this building, called 'Primordial Soup', he placed his hand on its surface and lazily scraped his digits against it, feeling its rough, sandpaper like material. If it was constructed from replicated materials, he couldn't feel the difference.

As he met the end of, what he assumed, the soup store; Ivan recognized a strip of interconnected stores, one was a grocer, two dealt with beauty products, and the last was decorated in Vulcan script that he couldn't recognize. Beyond the strip, he saw the glowing, neon yellow sign 'Great Grandma's House'.

Ivan walked in front of it and noted how it clashed even to the other stores; the door wasn't automatic, it had a brass door handle, the thumb-area worn and silvery, the paint chipping some around where it met the door. It was a bizarre feeling when Ivan reached out to grab and open it and it forced a moment of hesitation. It was yearning and fear, all at the same time, seeing this crude, rustic by today's standards, and not knowing what might be behind it. So much has changed already, and he hasn't stopped feeling like fish plucked from the Atlantic and was suddenly plunged into the fresh water Mississippi. He took his hand back, reached into his pocket and pulled the flask of brandy, spotting a nearby bin and was more than a little tempted to just toss it in the trash.

Shaking his head and sliding the flask back in his pocket, Ivan opened the door; his ears overjoyed when he heard the bells attached to the door, eyes blinking in delight, seeing tackily patterned and overly colorful lamps, and his nose swooning at the burning of overpowering incense.

There was a 'Bless this Mess' welcoming mat under his feet as he walked in and closed the door. Ivan saw the chaotic mess that was the inside of the antique store; a combination if a _TGI Fridays_ and a dollar store met, had a baby and left it to be raised by a _World Market_ , he saw nicknacks like ragdolls on shelves alongside mechanical robots, and other childrens toys on his left placed together without categorization, above a fading, wooden piano, nearly overflowing with their contents. On the opposite side, shelves, some filled with candies such as peppermints, hard butterscotches, jelly beans of every color, chocolates, and above them were things such as an electronic shaver, a pitcture of a boy in a heavy winter coat surrounded by dogs, then there was a bundle of small books tied in string, pages yellowing from age. Ivan barely had enough room to navigate the narrow hallway and enter a slightly larger main room. Just as he entered it, saw an old fashion register, over a glass counter that encased various electronics and books, he assumed collectables that required at least some form of security in order to dissuade theft.

As he walked towards the counter, a small, elaborate bust of a green dragon, smelly smoke pouring from its nostrils, he saw a flight of stairs that led to a second floor, and while he was still compelled by curious nostalgia, Ivan withheld exploring further and asked out; "Hello? Anyone in?"

He heard a solid, metallic clunk, followed by "Ah! Damn it! Wait right there!" A woman yelled out.

Ivan did as she commanded and held himself perfectly still, waiting anxiously as he heard the woman walk across the second floor and descended the stairs.

She wore a black sweatshirt under a set of jean overalls, face covered in black streaks of grease on her swarthy skin, thin nose and forehead, dirty blonde hair tied back in a messy bun that hung lazily on the back of her scalp. "Welcome to Grandma's House!" She nodded towards him swiftly, "What do you want?"

'The future ain't what I expected, but at least it's pretty.' Ivan thought, "I was told to come here by T'Kitt."

"You're Ivan then?" She stuck her hand towards him, "I'm Pen, nice to meet you."

Ivan shook it, ignoring the sticky texture of grease on her palms. "Where's William Davis?"

"Don't know, some antique business probably." She gestured towards herself and started walking towards the stairs, "While you're here, make yourself useful, eh?"

Ivan chuckled, "'Eh'? You Canadian?"

"What's a Canadian?"

"Uh… some extinct creature where I'm from." Following her up. "What do you need me for?"

"You good with twentieth century carbon-combustion vehicles?"

"I know a bit, what are you…" Ivan stopped when he saw the motorcycle, matted black, piping chrome and shiny. He whistled in excitement, "Never been a witness to one of these that didn't look like it had been dragged through a junk yard."

Pen blinked and smiled, "You've seen these before? Where? I had to replicate the parts from a manual I found!"

Ivan bit his lip, "Say, T'Kitt say anything about where I came from?"

"Not a lot, why?" Pen paced past Ivan and continued her project.

"Um… no reason really. What's the problem with it?"

"It's a 'her' not an 'it', and I'm having some trouble with the battery being able to activate the engine here… see?" Turning her fist and pulling out… some kind of glowing blue battery covering in colorful wires. It seemed so neat that it felt unnatural being in a vehicle he was familiar with. "I just can't get it to work."

"Is it filled with gas?"

"Gasoline? Yeah, you think I'm an idiot?" She rolled her eyes and slid the core back into the bike.

"What kind of battery is that?"

"Standard, Twenty-MCB Plasma Powercell. Should be able to run it years after I'm dead." She massaged her brow, "And everytime I turn on the ignition…" She reached for the key and turned, the motorcycle whine sharply before the core popped out, the blue glow now red and smoking heavily.

Ivan stared dumbfounded at the powercell, shrugging. "That looks waaaay too heavy duty for this little thing. Got anything like the batteries they used way back when?"

Pen eyed him wearily, "Why would I want an ancient battery when I get more than enough juice from something I can get just around the corner?"

The ancient human shrugged, "Because it looks like you're trying to shove a mastiff through a mouse hole. In the end of the day; these engines don't need too much electricity, and I think you're killing this project with overgenerosity."

Pen bit her lip, looking between him and the bike. "That's definitely something I'll consider, didn't think of it that way." She brushed hair behind her ear, getting Ivan's attention.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, pointing at her pointed ear tips, "You're a Martian too."

She gave him an icy, slighted glare. "I'm a Vulcan."

"Oh… so you're _not_ the emotionally suppressive wet blankets that came from Vulcan?" 'Christ, this is going to be so hard to get used to.'

"Try not to make the mistake, most Vulcans don't like getting mixed up with them." She explained, a tone of frustration leaking into her voice.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Vulcans have even wilder emotions then humans. Hope I don't step on too many toes… but I might have to; _why_ … does a Vulcan work in a human antique shop?" Ivan smiled.

"I think that's a bit private." She harshly yanked out the plasma cell and began plucking the wires that remained from the core. "Can you get to the replicators? Get it to make something along the lines of a tertiary: thirty-five."

Ivan wasn't sure what the request warranted, but strode to the console and replicator placed in such a way that it reminded him of both an oven and a chimney all at once. "Tertiary: thirty-five?"

The replicator didn't respond. "Do I have to turn it on?" Maybe a switch or a button or a… he started scraping along its sides and as his hand crossed the center of what he thought was the replo-pad, Ivan hissed painfully, taking his hand back and shaking it from the scorching heat. "Fucker!"

"What the hell are you doing to my stove?" Pen demanded over her bike, before standing. "You really aren't from around here… where are you from? You some refugee? Escaped slave from the Klingons? Iruujin? Orions?"

"No no, nothing like that. Um… just from someplace very far way and very backwater." Ivan walked back towards the store's owner. "This is only the third planet I've been on. That I remember anyway."

She stared at him absurdly, "The Prime Directive not a Federation law anymore?" She pinched two wires accidentally, the shock making her jump, "Crap! Okay… I need a walk away from this piece of tin… I'll show you around the replicators."

"I appreciate it." Ivan nodded, "How many people live here?"

"Barker's Block? Maybe one-hundred or so families." She shrugged as they left the antique store and met the cold air of the Martian atmosphere.

"No, I mean Mars."

"Mars is an old name and usually means the pre-terraformed world, its modernly called Ares." She explained as they walked down the street, "Last time I checked planetary statistics; it was close to twelve-billion."

"Woof… how about Earth itself?"

"Twenty."

"Jesus, how many people are even in the Federation?" Ivan chuckled.

"Why the interest in population data?" Pen looked impatiently at Ivan.

"A lot of the information on the computers I was using on the trip over didn't cover it. For some reason, the info I went by before said that there were only six billion on Earth."

Pen laughed harshly, "What kind of idiot told you that? Earth hasn't been so sparsely populated since before Cochrane rode a nuclear missile past the moon. Besides that; Earth is the capital of a galactic state that is populated by nearly half a _trillion_ sentients, a lot of people tend to come there."

Ivan nodded shallowly, "Logical. So, what do- whoa… I think _this_ is the replicator?" Turning the corner, Ivan's eyes gazed upon an open area like a plaza, installations ranging from small blocks at end the ends of walkways to as large as any of the stores he came across on the way to Pen, humming with energy and with dozens of replo-pads at their bases to receive many comers. "Which one are we looking for?"

"One that has 'energy cells' above it. Self-explanatory."

Ivan assumed that these were highly dedicated replicators for public use, but he wasn't sure if it was all due to how planetside replicators work, as apposed to a starship or spacestation, or whether these were arranged specifically in this manner. There didn't seem to be personal, household replicators if Pen's store was any indication, maybe it had to deal with energy production and consumption levels? A starship is usually equipped with an anti-matter reactor, sometimes the same is for stations, but the latter don't need that much power compared to warp-capable vessels so usually rely on fusion. Ares would probably have to rely on fusion as well, not only due to natural deposits for such fuels being plentiful like on Earth, but solar power would be significantly less efficient this far away from the sun.

'Maybe Mars is the Austin of the Solar System? Weird and really green with their energy usages?'

Ivan followed Pen about while also just taking in the sights, and while the area was sparsley populated, over a hundred people were actively coming and going from place to place, some with baskets full of goods, old fashioned bicycles with a bag or some container jury-rigged at one end or the other, two or so he saw standing on a weird, floating board with a handle jutting out from the center and allowed them to steer and they simply stood on it as it carried them from place to place. It looked spectular and all, but everything made Ivan feel more and more out of place, where he desperately has been seeking out for more normal shit.

So, the human followed Pen like a puppy so close he was afraid he would trip her or he was violating her personal bubble. So when she managed to track down the specific replicator, he saw the all the bells and whistles of the process, a computer identified the user, accessed their account of personal energy usages, judged whether or not it seemed out of place or dangerous, then the replicator did its thing. It was so simple and so fast that Ivan felt a bit guilty that Pen had to come out here and show him the bells and whistles. "How long are you staying here?" Tossing the newly made, blocky battery at Ivan.

Catching it with ease even as he reached for his flask to drink, "Dunno… looks like this a 'until further notice' situation. Don't worry, you won't be seeing my mug too much, probably a lot to do to be made a citizen."

"The bureau's probably run by martians too, which will only make the experience even more clinical."

"Shit." Ivan spat with malice, but it made his companion give a burst of laughter. "As long as they don't stick my ass in Starfleet, I'll bite the pillow."

"Bad experiences?" Opening the door for him.

"Nothin' but sunshine and rainbows. Other than a newly minted ensign, the damn robot on the ship was the friendliest of the crew."

He explained, briefly, the occurrences of his discovery, skimming over the Borg, of course. Then there was the Iruujin outpost, the Klingons sleeper-mission from before the alliance between the federation and the empire was made. "Huh… and you were just a passenger in all this?"

"A very uh active passenger, but yeah."

"Well… at least you weren't bored."

Ivan opened his mouth, but immediately closed it, concluding there were things that were so overwhelming superfluous that a correction would be fairly pointless. "Sure… so what do you need me to do?" Gesturing to the bike.

It took the pair more then five hours to pull the vehicle apart, figure the issue out and then put the thing back together again. There was a surprising lack of technobabble, Ivan was expecting one or two sessions of the crap which the _Enterprise_ crew seemed to enjoy torturing him with and pulled the schlock out whenever it was possible. No, something told Ivan that Pen either had a set of manners, or she wasn't the top shelf liquor when it came to this project and she was beating ends together to see if it worked as much as he would if Ivan was in charge.

Then came the anxious moment where they stood up and Ivan pointed to the key on the table, "Give her a try babe, I'm sure it'll work."

"I… kind of don't want to. Maybe if I leave it here until tomorrow, let the dust settle-"

"I swear to Christ;" Firmly stabbing her in the shoulder with a finger, "you don't start that machine, it's going out that window." Pointing to a tiny window at the very top of the building.

Pen gave an ill-humored glance at the threat, "This is my project, I'll start it when _I_ want, human."

"You ain't startin' nothin', you're going to leave this sack of puss in the store for it to gather dust and never twist that key in the ignition." Starting to make his way downstairs, taking a swig of his flask. "If your boss comes back, let him know I'm going for a walk." Trying to refrain from sounding completely fed up about this whole thing. "God, I need a smoke."

Making his way to the public replicators, he scoured the block trying to find something that could sate his desires, and after trying a few, managed to get to medicinal/pharmaceutical. There, he skimmed the menu, unable to find a specific brand of cigar or cigarette, spoke simply, "Tobacco, dried." Deciding he'd go back to that fabrics and try to get something to wrap then smoke it in, and while it was asking what kind he wanted, he heard a great and terrible mechanical ruckus coming from the street he came from. "That pointy-eared bitch!" Ivan smiled, despite himself as Pen cautiously drove the motorcycle past the occasional pedestrian before stopping with in front of Ivan with a skull splitting smile. "I love being wrong." Ivan grinned back.

"Want a ride?" Pen offered coyly.

Ivan drank his flask and nodded, swinging a leg over the back of the motorcycle and held on as the vehicle switched between jerking suddenly forward and slowing to a halt, but thankfully the antique store wasn't too far and only needed to tolerate it for a scant few minutes.

They parked the newly minted bike right outside _Grandma's House_ , got back inside and Pen demanded, "C'mon, give me a swig."

Handing his flask over, which only had a few swigs left by this point in the evening, the Vulcan drank briefly before she looked like she was going to spit it out, swallowing it and thrusting the flask at Ivan's chest. "What the hell is… get us a couple of glasses, I'll be right back."

Ivan squinted at the departing Vulcan and huffed in frustrated compliance, taking two cups from the shop's shelves, concluding that he could clean them afterwards. "Jesus, what's taking William so long? You think we should call him? Ya know, make sure he ain't dead?"

"He does this every so often, I'm not worried." She explained as she returned from a room on the second level. "Besides, the emergency services on Ares are second only to being on Earth itself, a single heart beat out of place, a medical team would be on him in less than a minute." She presented a blue bottle with a symbol eerily similar to that of the Romulan Star Empire on its side, but carried more oranges and yellows then greens and blues, "Ever had Vulcan Ale?"

"Actually, when you mention it; no." Ivan deadpanned, he wasn't sure if it was due to him seeing Pen more closely, but he did begin to see more clearly her Vulcan traits, the sharper brow, the pointier chin and a faint greenish hue to her skin, but all of these had to be looked for specifically. "Out of curiosity," Giving the coffee cups over, "are you completely Vulcan?"

"No. Clearly." Pen seemed to be focused with filling the glasses, "Not a lot of Vulcans you'll meet here are. Why do you ask?" Giving a cup to the human.

"Didn't think Vulcans came in blonde, just curious."

Pen gave her short, loud barks of laughter. "We traditionally don't. How does it taste?" Gesturing to the glass.

Ivan took a gulp out of it and had to give a small hiss from how sour, sweet and strong it tasted all once, like a sweet tart soaked in bourbon, it was an overwhelming wave of flavor that made his eyebrows jump up in surprise. "Woof, this is insanity in a bottle."

"One of the few brews in the Federation that will guarantee getting a vulcanoid on their ass. Here," She lifted her own glass, "To Harley Davidson!"

Ivan smiled and clinked her glass, "To Harleys!"

"Good, now that the celebrations of the project are complete, I know this certain Aresian drinking game…" She suggested with a smirk.

[][][]

William Davis gave a sidewise glance at the open door to his family's store with Pen's pet project sticking half way inside the doorway, "Guess she finished it…" Stoking his curly beard in thought. "Why would…" Hearing a cry from inside the store, he moved his considerable bulk through the door and over the antique, paced quickly through the hall. "Okay, what the he-!?"

Pen shrieked sharply and fled off the top of his cashier desk and fell behind it, but a naked man looked startledly at William, grabbing a nearby bundle of clothes and hiding his manhood from sight. "Whoa! Sorry uh um, I'll-!"

"Get the hell out of my store!" William boomed and ran at the intruder, grabbing him by the neck and nearly throwing him through the door, but instead made him trip up over the motorcycle and fall over, nearly naked on the sidewalk. "Pen?! You alright?!" He asked urgently.

"Can you throw me my clothes?" His employee asked meekly.

William looked down at the bundle, noting a certain element was lacking, looked back to the street, "Boy! Get your ass back in here!"

His uninvited guest cocked his head uncertainly, but carefully maneuvered over the recently conustruected hurdle, and approached the shop owner. "You're William, I take it?"

"And you are?" William demanded.

"Ivan."

William rolled his jaw, "I gave you the wrong clothes. Drop the ones you have, take the rest and get dressed. There's a bathroom on the second floor."

"Good plan." His guest of honor chuckled before grabbing his due and rushing to the second level.

William gathered the remaining bundle of attire and threw it over the desk. He rubbed his forehead as he paced back to the hallway to allow her some privacy. "And here I was worried you wouldn't like him…"

"L-listen," Pen stuttered, "I'm really sorry about this, but the ale's flowing and things really got out of hand."

"No shit. Next time, lock the goddamn front door." William whined. "Got anymore ale? Need to burn what I just saw out of my brain."

"Dude," Ivan spoke from upstairs, "I doubt it."

"You sh-!" William bit back his anger and slowly spoke, "Please, don't speak to me right now. Just stay up there until T'Kitt gets here."

A moment later, Ivan asked, "Pen? You okay?"

"… yeah."

[][]

T'Kitt managed to come down to the store to pick him up maybe a half hour after the whole thing went down. Ivan barely said five words to the store's workers after that, and Pen couldn't even look him in the eye as he said goodbye, to say the human was disappointed when he asked T'Kitt if he had any liquor at his pad that he could part with and that his household was as dry as a bone would be an understatement, despite his own severe inebriation.

Ivan didn't remember much of getting in the house, let alone collapsing into one of the beds.

Imagine his surprise when the first thing he saw was a young girl looking down at him in a mix between a plain grimace and a sour frown.

The human blinked blearily, smacking dry lips as he thought, 'Don't tell me that ale made me not only skip ten years of my life but also made me forget to pull out…' He rubbed his face, "What are you doing here? Where's here by the way?"

The girl turned her head, "You are in my home. I thought I heard someone talking in here and came to see."

"I assume you're T'Len." Ivan mumbled as he looked around the small room, noting several oil lamps and how blank and featureless it was other than a drawer and the door, then swiftly dumping his head back on the pillow. "Well if there was someone talking, they ain't here now."

"You were the one talking." She replied matter of factly, "What's an 'iuul'?"

Ivan looked at her with a frown of confusion, "Dunno."

"But you used it, why?"

"Dunno kid." Ivan drawled, only partially conscious and not knowing fully what he was saying.

"Strange." The child asked stated, slightly perturbed. "I should tell father."

"Yea, go do that thing." Ivan mumbled raising his hand before digging his face into the pillow with ernest. "Wait…" He then lifted his head, momentarily bewildered at the pain that rattled between his ears before it decided to descent and rest on the bottom of his stomach as he sat up in time for a less then joyous T'Kitt opening the door and approaching the man.

"You are awake, good."

"I'm still alive, bad." Rubbing his eyes, "Sorry about your kid. I didn't know I was a sleep talker."

"She's still young, curiosity is an intense desire in the young, even raised as a Martian."

"Still, hope I wasn't too much of an ass last night."

"As much an ass as any, but at least you had manners, here." Still trying to wrap his mind around what the vulcanoid said, T'Kitt held out three white pills and a glass of water and Ivan couldn't do anything but stare at them "They're for the hangover."

The human nodded towards the man and took them a little too eagerly, "Much obliged." Ivan stood up slowly and looked around, "I should get out of your hair, thank you for everything, give me a hail anytime you need something from me."

T'Kitt gave a confused quirck of the eyebrow, "You don't intend to stay?"

"I'm not going to burden your or your family, I'll swing by the Daystrom building or whatever and set up a residence while with them. God knows they'll be a ton of paperwork to fill out, what's a little more to the pile?" Taking up the pack at the foot of the bed, Ivan pulled the flask out of a pocket and gave a relieved sigh when it rattled with liquid.

"I was anticipating you would be here for a prolonged period."

"Try not to sound too disappointed, pal." Swigging back what contents remained and had to force back a gag when he accidentally breathed through his nose during the act, but soon his body was again flooded with the terrible, delightful warmth. "I mean it, I very much appreciate it all, and I insist that its better I leave as soon as I can."

T'Kitt gave a sideways look at Ivan before giving a small nod. "I understand. You strive to become socially independent as soon as possible."

"Yeah…" Ivan smiled back. "Thanks again." Giving the Vulcan salute, before hefting the bag over his shoulder and leaving the room.

"Know this, you will always be welcome here, but if you ever wish to come by, please give me or my son a message before you do." T'Kitt offered as Ivan raised a hand over his shoulder in thanks, unsure how to verbally respond to such hospitality, prepared and otherwise.

He passed by T'Len on the way out and smiled, "Have a good day!" Ivan offered a smile as he passed, this entire experience is odd, as if being off starships and spacestations suspended the fact that he's not hiding out from the Chinese, any of the república expeditionary forces or any of the American bastards that decided to play king of the hill between them all. He was safe, is going to have three hot ones a day and goto bed with a roof over his head by the day's end… so why did he feel that something was _wrong_?

For the trip to the nearby transport station (which was a massive disappointment because it didn't literally transport him to his destination) and when he got on the hover bus, Ivan felt this constant kind of 'out-of-body' feeling, something which he only felt when he hit his head a couple of times during combat. He only stopped thinking back to all that shit when a uniformed man, clad in blue suit and conductor hat, Ivan looked up and nearly jumped when he fully realized he wasn't dreaming and the guy was actually there. "Sir, can I ask what your destination was? We're at the end of the rail here."

"Yeah… sorry hoss, I'll uh… how far away is the Daystrom buildin'?"

He sighed, "That was several stops ago. I can reroute you there before rejoining the end of the line."

"Much obliged." Ivan muttered lowly as the conductor left.

The trip took another ten minutes before Ivan was practically escorted to the exit ramp, the rest was fairly cut and dry, he gave the man at the front desk the contact he made while on the _Enterprise_ , some waiting, _then_ began the filling out of paperwork. Apparently, it wasn't exactly uncommon for people to be either A: Removed from the past in some form or another, and B: To be forcibly enlightened and removed from one's more primitive environment. Ivan was honestly stumped whether to check just one or do both. This wasn't his time, this wasn't even his own fucking universe.

Ivan was acting like a lobotomized zombie by midday, and while the medication for the drunk, and more or less disorderly, was helpful, its effects had worn off sooner then he desired. During the lunch break, he applied for housing in some apartments that have low population, and the computer warned against it due to an above average crime rate and a strict majority of Vulcans in the area. "Good, no humans." He muttered over his chicken-curry, "Those guys are the worst."

By the afternoon, the whole process was more or less finished, with what he could surmise as a general/advanced knowledge exam made him feel like an idiot. It was over three hours of things so simple, he might as well be counting fingers and toes, but after the easy stuff, it was two more not knowing half the words it said.

The test finished, he was thinking that it'd all be good and over but when he was on the way out, he was stopped by a comm message from his Daystrom contact, and she said, "Ivan, your psychiatrist appointment is next Tuesday! Enjoy your day and welcome to the Federation!"

"Yeah…" Already feeling his two-hole being torn in half just from the idea of being psycho-analyzed, Ivan was wanting to check out his new hidey hole and needing to find another source of liquor, but another duty lingered in his mind. Ivan stood in front _Great Grandma's House_ , rubbing his thumb frustratingly against the cap of his flask, still in his pocket. "Shoulda thrown you in that can." He muttered before giving two solid knocks on the door.

"Hello? The doors open." Ivan recognized the voice instantly, and he forced a smile when Pen opened the door and looked like she was staring into the face of the devil himself.

"Hey."

Regaining some composure, she stepped outside, "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to say sorry. I'm uh not uh like that, trust me, and with being caught by your boss-"

"Apology accepted." She nearly spat, "Please don't come back, have a nice day." Pen went back inside and slammed the door on his face.

Ivan _was_ angry, offended and confused by her behavior and there was that itching feeling to act on it, but what would be the point? It'd just be another dickhead he's wronged somehow and then he'll do it again later to someone else down the line, so did it really matter if he got upset? He just turned around, found the transport hub and left for his new housing. He just wanted today to be over, but it simply wished to extend this twenty-four hour day of misery to the nth degree. Namely, with a set of Vulcan youths swinging their dicks around.

Most people don't usually have a universal translator on their person at all times, so when a trio of Vulcans crossed the street and started jabbering at Ivan and between each other, he didn't understand a damn thing other than the tone. Mocking, arrogant and undoubtedly some form of nice, neighborly hazing. He was maybe a block away from the apartment, but growing frustration with the Vulcans finally forced Ivan to stop, pinch his nose and ask, "Can you guys leave me be? I've had a bitch of a day."

"We will leave you alone, when _we_ want monkey."

Ivan couldn't help but give an exhausted laugh but also felt invigorated from the situation at hand. He might do at least a little bit of what he's actually good at if he pushed the right buttons, the thought of a fight bringing warmth, excitement and life to his blood. "Jesus Christ. What is with the monkey jokes?" He asked himself quietly. "I assume that's street-Vulcan for human? The least you could be is original!" Quickly pulling his bag away from one of the bastards that think they're clever moving slowly into the blind-spot on his right. "Don't do that again ya pointy eared punk." He suggested to the man. "How old are ya guys? Damned punk ass bitches should be in school or under your mama's skirt."

"Ah, the monkey thinks he's sharp! Think we should test the blade?" One of the youths patted the other suggestively.

"Buddha's fat ass; you guys are lame. Go home, I don't wanna be thrown in prison second day I'm on this dust ball." Ivan was certain Vulcans would either freak out at how frigid a human he was or he'd finally get to itch only a fight could scratch. Either way; what bliss! There was just a slight issue with his plan…

"My home's here!" A vulcan said, pointing to his palm, "Want to see it?"

Even as Ivan anticipated the blow, the Vulcan moved _fast_ , or Ivan was sorely out of practice, either way, he tried to move out of its way and it landed right on his cheek. It hit him so hard he had sharply turned him to his right, stepping back bewildered, getting hit so hard that he thought his soul had literally left his body for a moment. During this, the next Vulcan kicked him in the gut and made Ivan almost retch as he bent over, 'I think I might have bitten off more then I can chew…' the human thought as another fist hit him square in the center of his forehead, his daze now dime's width away from a knock out, seeing dark, blinking stars as he fell over. They hammered a couple more kicks on him at his gut, neither of them felt any weaker then the shit he's already been introduced to, before they lifted his bag and left his vision.

Ivan laid there for a few minutes, his body struggling against passing out, but Ivan didn't help the situation by trying to get up a little too fast, his left flank screaming a scorching pain and made him a mix between a groan and scream, choked as he dribbled blood that was welling in his mouth. Grabbing onto his side, as struggled to move towards the nearest wall bent over at the waist, Ivan hissed as sore, but thankfully not broken, fingers leant against a red-brick building and tried to keep him up. Ivan tried to keep both his eyes open, and the warm stickiness of blood drowned his left, making him look around the area like a retarded cyclops, groaning, moaning and having no idea what he should do.

Then he saw a sign, a floating holotext that were just simple colors of green and red, saying: 'Tonics, Gins and Liquors' at the end of the street. 'Nah, you have to goto a clinic, a hospital, something you dumbass. You don't know if you're bleeding from the inside, your ribs should be enough to make you worried, right?' He thought in vane to himself as he hobbled towards the store, trying to slowly stand straighter, if slightly hunched. By the time he got to the place and opened the store, he was hobbling but standing, a closed eye and blood still wept from his gums, he was spitting the overflow out like a man chewing tabaco. It was cleaner then he thought it'd be, he concluded as the doors automatically opened at his approach, a small, stark white store that reminded him of an ER, but held rows and rows from end to end of the small store of bottles, different in shape almost all of them and had so many different colors, he didn't have words for half of them, on the side that allowed a kind of pathway between all the rows, had a small desk with a bored looking man looking at a padd. Until he saw Ivan at the door that is. He briefly didn't know how to react, his lazy eyes turning into something like a deer in headlights.

"I-it's good man-" Ivan coughed and swallowed some blood, "I got this, but I need to know where the good stuff is." He forced a smile as he waved erratically at the guy, limping further into the store, looking at the signs on the ends of the rows.

"Holy sh-! What happened to you!?" He dropped the padd and rushed over the desk, reach out to help him stand, but Ivan waved him off.

"I was dared to tell a martian Spock's an ill-logical knuckledragger… they disagreed." He lied, trying to chuckle but made him cough even harder as blood slipped down the wrong pipe in his throat. "Ah…" Ivan exclaimed as he saw the familiar curve of the Saurian brandy bottles and reached for one at level with his chest.

"S-sir, please wait here I'll- what the hell are you doing?!" He demanded as Ivan bit off the cork, foil wrapper over it and all and started chugging it.

The bite of pain didn't even bother him as the sweet, bitter nectar swam down his esophagus and rested in his stomach like a pocket of warmth, drinking as much as he could before he feared even his mildly numbed gag reflex would force what he had in him back up. Giving a gasp, feeling the crawl of bile before a small burp left his lips. "Can ya ring this up for me?" Pushing the half-spent bottle into the store man's hands, keeping himself up with his hands on his knees.

[]

The apartments were nearly entirely automated. He took the elevator up to the third floor, shuffled towards the door with a big '1312' on it, put his thumb on the flat black scanner where a doorknob would be and the door slid into the wall.

He nearly wept with joy as he saw a replicator in his open, blank room, the walls were a creamy white, like frosting, and the thought of it alone made Ivan giddy, swigging back the brandy and tumbled towards the replicaotor, "Hey! Hey…" He was laughing uncontrollably, managing to put away this chemically induced humor for a moment, "Uh hahaha… vanilla cupcake!"

"Please specify the frosting flavor."

"Fuck you!" His mood swinging towards rage so quick even his intoxicated mind was shocked by it.

"Please, repeat flavor."

"Vanilla." He mumbled laying down next to the machine as it buzzed and hummed the small confection to reality.

He lazily tried to reach into the replopad to get it, but quickly gave up, laying fully on the floor and passing out.

Waking later, hungover nearly out of his mind and combined with the days previous injuries, Ivan had stewed in the same position for nearly twelve hours, where the needs to relieve himself or vomit even being hounded by how shitty he felt. He eventually got up, saw the cupcake in the replicator and vomited on the floor from the sight of it, swiped it aside, got a medical tricorder from the replicator, thankful that he wasn't too badly hurt, fearing some kind of concussion or internal injuries he'd half to get help for. He replicated the medical goods needed, splinted his fractured fingers, put some cast-bandage across his torso for the ribs, and didn't bother with the more supericial stuff, getting up and beginning the process of preparing himself for another hangover tomorrow, if he could help it at least. Days and nights passed in a barely cognizant blur, Ivan barely said three words to actual people in that time, and if he said anything it was to the replicator, he ordered a couch at the local replomat which was teleported in the center of the apartment, thanking Mary, Jesus and Joe for how convenient that is. Other then that, he got booze, ate, occasionally read, but the strictest majority of that time, he simply slept. The alcohol and pain medication partnering up was the main reason for all this, but eventually, this self-destructive cycle was thrown a bump, as a man on the apartment's comm asked, "Ivan? You home?"

"Huh?" He asked lazily, not lifting his head from the pillow, "Who's this?" Nestling deeper into the couch cushions.

"Your therapist, Doctor Wang, you're late to an appointment." The man sounded pissed but it was a controlled, sarcastic kind of pissed.

"With that kind of name, you should have part-timed as a pornstar… porn still exists right?" Ivan asked as he slowly got up from the bed.

"Yes, yes, now please head to the same building you registered your citizenship, room fifteen-twenty-two."

"Wait, let me get something to write with." He scoffed, but the jibe fell on deaf ears as the comm line was already closed.

Getting to the place took maybe twenty minute, and when he reached the room, a glass table in its center, a number of pictures that he didn't pay much attention to and at the end was a desk, which sat a pale, middle aged Asian man with heavy, dark brown eyebrows that seemed even longer then his short-cut hair looked up from a set of padds with frustration and immediately looked back down and ordered, "Sit down."

Ivan was surprised by his attitude, "I'd fall asleep, no thanks pal."

"Whatever you like." Typing several things in a pad, not looking back up or responding in any way.

After a minute or so, "Are we married? Why you giving me the silent treatment?" Ivan agitatedly demanded.

"Why are you late?" Still not looking up from the padds, "These appointments have been mandated from the Federation for your integration, violating the date of these can be considered as unlawful and warrant different forms of integration. Like prison."

"Oh, just doing my own things and just lost track of time. Your mom says hi by the way." Ivan crossed his arms.

The man huffed a single chuckle, "I love my mother, but I have to say you have horrible taste in women."

"I actually can't refute that." He borderline mumbled, thinking back to Pen. "So… what do we do now? If you're anything like Troi on the _Enterprise_ , I hope you're paid well, 'cause we're gunna be here for a while."

"How many people did you kill?" Wang asked nonchalantly.

Ivan was taken off guard, blinking rapidly in confusion, "Excuse me?"

"You look like a man that would keep a tally." The doctor commented, finally looking up from the padds, clasping his hands together, leaning forward as he asked, "How many people?"

Ivan rolled his jaw, looking down and sighed, "I shoulda brought my flask." Sitting on the chair in front of him before looking back up, "If I knew, I'd tell you, I lost track when I was around eighteen."

His brow lifted slightly, the caterpillars above his eyes looking like they were trying to crawl up a small hill. Or crawl down it, he couldn't tell which ends were the front. "That many? Dozens?" Ivan was silent, "Hundreds? Really." He sounded genuinely impressed, a phantom of a smile on his lips, "Who were you fighting?"

"Mostly guys that looked like you. The Chinese got a bit genocidal, so you don't have to worry about what _kind_ of Asians were killing everyone, they got the Japanese first with nukes and before the week was out, most of the other countries near 'em were holocausted, death camps and everything." Ivan started speaking and he wasn't sure if he'd stop, but it ended naturally when the tiny smile turned into an even harsher frown then before but gave a sweet tinge of satisfaction to the man, "Why you ask? Besides the whole therapy thing?"

"There isn't any reason past that. I'm a doctor, in order to help you heal, I need to know as much as I can about what caused your current state." Tapping a finger against his conjoined knuckles.

"Well, I have to say something about your 'doctoring'; _fuck_ , your bedside manner sucks." Ivan chuckled.

"How many did you kill yourself?" Unphased by Ivan's comment, "Guns, knives, blunt objects, that sort of thing."

"Lots, like I said, I lost track." Ivan repeated annoyedly.

"Family? They in the war too?" Wang asked quickly after his answer.

"At first, then most of 'em died. Fuck you by the way." His anger rising at the thoughts of when he was told his father and brothers died and his mother being sent to a camp years after that.

"What about other people? It reads here it was World War Three, don't tell me you only lost against a single country."

"We didn't lose, shit-stick, we were betrayed by the government at the time, they allowed themselves to be annexed by the Chinese Empire." Ivan growled.

"Answer the question." He stated, turning his head only slightly.

"Other americans, the occasional central or south american expeditionary force. They were also killed by the Chinese, by the way."

"Holding a grudge?" Wang asked in a sickening sarcastically concerned tone.

Ivan looked sideways at the man, "The hell kinda therapist are you?"

"The one that gets answers and fixes my patients, do you hold a grudge? I am of Asian descent, afterall."

"I ain't holding a grudge, no. And you ain't what I was fightin', or anyone in this universe. You don't have to worry about me taking it out on people here." Getting a hint of what he denoting, "Trust me, I hate humanity in all its colors, creeds and various denominations, I don't discriminate."

"You hate yourself then?" Wang asked even quicker.

"Especially myself." He tried to beat the doctor in speed.

"Why?"

"Why not? I killed people for over a decade, saw my friends and family die and be torn apart and at the end of it all, here I am, alive and in paradise, it's not fair."

"You wanted to die?"

"No, I wanted to be killed, subtle difference. How much do you know of how I got here?"

The question forded the doctor to pause the rapidfire round of twenty-Q and look at one of the padds, "Says you are from possibly an alternate timeline, but tests do not show this as completely feasible."

Thinking very briefly of the pod, his eye twitched erratically but he was somehow comforted in knowing that his knowing of this universe as a TV show hasn't gotten past Picard or Guinan. "Alright, well, imagine you have seen and done so much, were forced so much shit and blood, and imagine you are as far away from it as possible, that it was pointless, that it amounted to _nothing_ , none of it matters, you can't even hate the bastards who did it all to you 'caused they don't exist, but here I am. The only thing from that hell and all… all I want… is to not _think_ about it, not see it all around me, and when I'm _here_ , a paradise I can't leave, effectively meaning its my prison now." Gesturing to the room with his arms, "I… just…" His lips were sown together in a mix between agitation and anger. "I just don't… feel there's a point, about anything."

Ivan was expecting another quick, unpredictable question, but as he heard only silence from the man, he saw the all too familiar scowl. "I see." He spoke, almost to break the awkward silence. "Well… I have already contacted a few people who may be able to distract you until we can get to solving your problems…" Picking up a padd and handing it to Ivan, "There are people at the Daystrom Institute, they will be immensely interested in what you know, or claim to know. I will see you next Tuesday, be here on time."

They've been in this room, what? Ten minutes, if even that? Didn't these guys work by the hour? Feeling somewhat blueballed by this 'therapist', Ivan stood up and left without wasting another word to this bastard, only reading the padd when he was on the elevator down. "Theoretical cultural reconstruction?" Ivan asked aloud.

[][]

So Ivan had the job of answering questions about his childhood from professors who were trying to figure out how humans would have developed during the mid-eighties to the beginning of the twenty first century. Ivan was surprised by how little data existed of the time, but had to remember that not only did earth go through the Eugenics Wars in the nineteen-nineties, but had their own World War Three, why so much of the cultures before the Augments was such a problem at the time was the complete and utter lack of the internet, the damn thing just never happened, and with the chaos of both wars _combined_ , lots of artists, musicians, celebrities and ideas never were born, recorded or followed a different path of events entirely.

"I was big into entertainment, hell, my mom owned a CD store."

That single line alone made the professors giddy with excitement but after a month, Ivan exhausted his well of information that he could access, and they were able to prescribe this weird memory-recall enhacnment drug, which combined with the booze he often brought to work, gave him this crazy high. He started to like going to work and just telling stories about him and his family, the crazy stuff on film or on television, but of all the things he loved trying to recreate; the music was the best. Ivan's mom loved music, something she got from her father who owned this own records store in Chicago before she wanted to move south for university and met my father, lending her the money to start a music store in the boonies of the bible-belt, and against the conservative logic of the area, it became popular and very successful. Ivan's younger brothers, Henry and Joshua, loved pop and rap, his sister loved Elvis, but him? He was a metal-head, it started with _Metalica_ and _Sevendust_ , but then it migrated to _Slayer_ (which worried even his more or less agnostic parents), _Sabaton_ and _Rammstein_. Of course, he loved other bands and genres, but when he was on his computer or doing homework or chores; he'd eventually just be banging his head against some of the goodstuff on his ipod.

But eventually had to go home, and that's when the worst of came out. Not that he was forced to stop thinking about his calm, wonderful childhood, but because he couldn't stop thinking about it and it just got more and more maddening, drinking more just to get calm and fall asleep on the couch. Then the cycle would start again, go to work, recall a song, tv show, movie, book and try to reconstruct it in the buildings holodecks or computer, go to therapy on Tuesday, eat, drink and repeat. Nearly two months in, he didn't care that Doctor Wang might not be helping him, or that the drugs and drink might be unhealthy both physically and mentally even if they helped his recollection of the good old days, he just wanted to do _this_ , for years and years and eventually just die. Not that he was happy or despised the situation so much that doing something new seemed pointless, no, it was because he knew it would keep him and other people safe from what he actually knew. Of course, there was the occasional neighborhood Vulcan punk stalking the neighborhood, but he learned his lesson from the first time and often just avoided them or acted the drunken fool until they left.

It wasn't good, it may not have been productive, having no need for money for rent, food or health care, but it felt comfortable.

Then, in the middle of the night, an alarm went off across Ares. It reminded him too much of bomb alarms and he was acting to protect himself before he was fully awake, running out of the building and seeing people rushing to the transport hubs to head to the shelters, Ivan looked around, trying to figure out what was happening, but then he saw a news on one of the massive public screens that usually displayed things like news or sports, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull in horror at what was on it.

It was a Borg Cube.

][


	5. 5- Wrathful Renaissance

Wrathful Renaissance:

To say Ivan was late to the panic party would be a tremendous understatement, running back towards the huttiling masses that were gathering in shelters, sheer terror fueling him where only apathy had laid its leaden anchor.

Of course, the human expected this particular event to occur many months later, maybe even a year, and not only had the chronology been changed but the Cube itself was different. Ivan wasn't a particular fan of _Star Trek Voyager_ , but he could easily compare that beefy Tactical Cube to what was being displayed, and that threw his expectations right into the fan, followed by a heaping amount of shit.

He was on the tail end of the horde of scared civilians, but it seemed to be near a thousand strong and a minute or so after, most of then began to disperse outwards, in all directions. At first, Ivan thought that the group was simply going the wrong way, but as the middle area began to clear out, with an even greater fervor of terror, he saw as to why. These Borg weren't the ones he'd seen before; a cheap display of technology and humanoid being melded, like how they first appeared.

The only things the blasphemy he sees now and the crude caricature he was anticipating, were that they had replaced a single eye and arm for a prosthetic, modified counterpart.

No, the borg had necrotizing, rotten, brown-grey skin across a bulging, hairless scalp as a pair of five finger like prods were shoved in threw the head's sides, the one organic eye seemingly still functional despite the cavity around it being bone like and desiccated, the cybernetic implant a warping, constantly shifting light of green as it peered, scanned and observed everything in sight for analysis, and when it settled on Ivan, he felt a physical repelling from its gaze, as if its scanning had a weight to it. He was shocked how long he returned its gaze, but his nerves seemingly caught back up to him as it took a single, slow pace towards him and simultaneously lifting up a long barreled weapon at the end of its spindly arm, and broke into a sprint, but no longer with trying to reach a bunker, what good would that do if the bastards were invading? No, he was heading to a transport center nearby Ivan doubted that the machines were operable, but he could use it to gather his bearings and he had to make sure T'Kitt and his family were safe or at least give them enough time to get a bunker or better yet, a ship.

Most of the area was already cleared out, the magnetically propelled carts hovering teasing just above the ground, devoid of life despite seemingly being fully active. Ivan took a step inside the lead cart and stared at the controls for several seconds trying to recognize anything familiar that could somehow instantly improve his technical skills in operating it. "Uhhh… shit, this thing?" The cart jumped forward a leap until he took his hand off the panel when he quickly fell over. "No, not that way… uhhh…"

As he experimented with the controls, a growing smell, sickly sweetness like the rotting of a tree filled his nose slowly until it was almost overpowering and it forced him to look around to search for its origins, only to be face to face with the conductor, the flanks of his head freshly gored with finger like spikes with his hat being still on, a dull, unfazed look as he grasped Ivan by the throat and shoved him back into the console with a strength that holy belied the man's abilities. Struggling to exclaim a panicked curse as the borgified conductor brought his other hand up, two prongs forming between knuckles. Ivan in a flash of panic slammed his fist into the torque panel and sent the Borg onto its back, where Ivan was more prepared for the sudden change in velocity quickly grabbing to a nearby bar on the counter and held onto dear life as the cybernetic organism was forcibly pulled away from this throat.

Monetarily unbalanced as he took his hand off the torque, Ivan still walked forward and started stomping on the Borg's head as hard and as often as he could and when he saw the wrist with the nanotubes close in on his ankle, he thought he was done, but with his final stomp, there was a gag inducing crunch, blood and tissue projected up his pant leg as the pressure from the freshly grown implants and Ivan's own actions finally overwhelmed his cranium. Ivan sighed in relief before sitting down, suddenly exhausted. Ivan fought on though, but not before sighing, "I hate public transportation." Moving back to the console and kicking in the pole until it fell to the ground, picking it up, he considered a possible, far more likely means of working this vehicle, considering the century. "Computer?" Ivan asked aloud and smiled widely as it chimed back in response.

[][]

With his improvised weapon in hand, Ivan strode out of the mag-tran with careful quickness, followed the street down until he met up with the apartment complex, keeping a very close eye for any other Borg that might be meandering around, but if how that one appeared in the middle of the crowd, they were likely just teleporting single units in heavily populated areas, getting one or two assimilatees then converging in on the bunkers when they had cause sufficient panic and enough numbers to press on the checkpoints, so the cybernetic assholes were likely far away from here.

"T'Kitt?! T'Len?!" Ivan called out as loud as he could, "Here to help! Anyone out there?" Ivan took the stairs up and looked around carefully. "You guys in here at all?" Reaching the door, Ivan unsteadily opened the door and quietly gasped at all the upturned furniture. "Jesus." Praying silently that they made it out, it was only around because of panic. Coming across a locked door, pressing his ear to the door and asked, "Hello?" The door suddenly bowing, the wood splintering and splitting as Ivan backed away and raised the bar.

He heard someone from behind the door cried out, "Hello! We're in the closet here!" A girl yelled and Ivan held himself and waited for the thing to come to him.

"Alright! Wait right where you are and whatever you hear, do _not_ come out." Ivan warned who he assumed was T'Len in between the Borg beatind down the door.

Sooner then he would have liked, the door was beaten in half and out stroke a full on cybernetic Borg like the one out in the street and here he had the full frontal; its limbs were skeletal, coated in a form fighting exoskeleton, but despite its similarities to the first one he saw, this one had no cannon, but seemingly just another, non-combatant prosthetic. "C'mon." Ivan muttered as he slowly strode towards the borg, raising his beating-stick.

Expecting the blow long before Ivan threw it, it used its mechanical arm to block the downward blow, quickly throwing its own jab at the human's ribs, forcing him back several paces.

Ivan felt like his body already had too much, his flank felt worse than the door the freak just broke in half, but he bit the inside of his cheek stood back up and readied the pole. "Faster than I thought." He complimented the invader as he quickly thought up a new strategy. 'Stronger too.' His mind still on his bruising ribs. Sure, these guys are stronger, more intelligent, and there's a whole heaping lot of elements he is undoubtedly ignorant of, considering recent events, but the Borg are logical to a fault, for every strength, there is a weakness that could be exploited, he just needed to find it.

Swing again in the exact same manner as before, but moving his stick back to avoid his arm and quickly struck against the Borg's side, at the thin stem between its visible hips and ribs, what vulnerable flesh or bone seemingly protected by the body suit, giving a sharp gasp as his enemy tried to grab his arm, but wasn't quick enough, where the Borg managed to wrangle him down and swung his entire body from this single point against the wall, his arm nearly snapping at the wrist from all the weight both parties were throwing around, dislocating it from his shoulder but he quickly forced himself back up even with his hanging stump of a left arm. Ivan spat, "Fuck, fuck, fuck…" under his breath, fearing the implications of what might happen if this shit head assimilated him. It and the entire goddamn Collective would know what he knew, and as out of touch it might be, would give waaaay too much usable information, and the thought gave just enough of a panic that he only moaned lowly as he pushed his arm back into the socket like he's done several times before.

Pushing the thought aside, Ivan gasped lightly as he picked up the pole, the Borg and the human circling one another, Ivan quick enough just to keep just out of reach of the cybernetic drone whose top speed was only just below aggressively 'fun-running'.

That's when Ivan looked at the Borg's face, and made eye contact with its single ugly, lidless organic peeper. Ivan pondered, 'Why would they keep that?' Clearly it was inefficient, but then he had to remember, their organic components were as vital as the mechanical ones, which meant that it kept the eye for one reason or another, furthering it was connected to a brain, organic or otherwise at the center of its noggin. "Come hither you handsome bastard…" Ivan stood in place despite every instinct screaming for him to get the hell out of its grasp, but was beaten to the ground as it swung its mechanical arm across his face, feeling a sharp, sickening tear across his cheek, and more than a couple teeth being rearranged, but was then quickly held bone crunchingly harshly where his collar bone met his neck, bringing the mechanical up to his neck, tubes, for nanoprobes Ivan assumed, shifting out of the lump of metal. "Ya got a purty eye!" Ivan declared just as he grabbed the creature's head and dug a thumb into the Borg's organic eyeball, a wet crunching stopping the Borg mid-pace as dull orange liquid gushed from the wound as Ivan dug his digit further into the socket, scratching and tearing apart everything soft he could feel, where the Borg then took a step back, even the hive-mind controlled drone had to take a step back and do a SITREP, whether due to pain or needing further direction, there is a possibility that while the technological eyepiece had shown it a vast spectrum of information, it may be limited or restricted to the common, humanoid light field of vision. Ivan gave a small, cruel smile at the blinded creature, bringing up his stick and slammed it down across the Borg's scalp, all the adrenaline and anger had enough strength to open the bastard's head open. Ivan brought it down again and again on its head, long after it fell to the ground inoperable, a smelly, orange mush amid its remaining bits of skull and components being the only remainder of its head, Ivan unable to continue from tiring.

The human panted deeply, needy for air as he walked past the corpse to the next room where he found another. It was a Borg, that was clear, but something had shot a decent portion of its chest off, a smoldering crater still smoking from its center, where Ivan looked to the closed, closet door and concluded that whoever was in there had a phaser, and the Borg he killed was waiting outside it when they killed its buddy. Maybe it was prepping to adapt its shields to the weapon's modulation, but it was only fired once so it likely took a lot longer with only the one incident. Either that, or it was waiting for them to tire out or grow weak from lack of food or water.

Ivan knocked on the closet, "Hey, you all right?"

"Whose out there?!" A man now demanded, "Get away from the door or I'll fry ya!"

"T'Kitt? I thought Martians were good at controlling emotions under pressure."

"… how do you know my father's name?"

"Ohhh…" Ivan muttered, "You must be the son? We haven't met. I assume T'Len is with ya?"

He didn't get an answer, but he did hear voices through the door, likely discussing between themselves. "Listen, I uh dunno how long it'll be before another one of these freaks makes its way here, but I have to get you out before then." Ivan waited a few seconds before the closet was unlocked and it slid open.

"No fucking way." Ivan muttered, giving a familiar if somewhat condemning look at the boy, "Small universe, ain't it punk?" Remembering one of his assailants on his way to the apartment.

The Vulcans eyes were wide with shock and he gasped. The boy looked like his father, sure, but devoid of the bowl cut and all the muss of a traditional Martian. Seems the lines between Martians and Vulcans were much thinner than even Ivan considered.

Ivan quickly snatched the phaser that was pointed at him out of the Vulcan's hands, the later of whom quickly protested before, Ivan pointed the phaser at him and said back, "Shut up, I'd rather not stun your dumbass in front of your sister, do as I say, as I say it and keep your mouth shut. How ya doing kid?" Looking down at T'Len as she hid behind her older brother, silent. Ivan returned his gaze back to the boy and asked, "What's your name again?"

"Saudel." The Vulcan replied curtly.

"Okay, you and your sister are going to stay right behind me, we're heading to the nearest safe zone." Ivan looked at T'Len and commanded, "You, close your eyes, your brother will help you get out of here, okay?" He forced a bit of calm, confidence, try and make her less worried.

Double checking the phaser was at maximum, Ivan gave a confirming nod at Saudel, seeing T'Len clenching her eyes shut as her brother held one of her hands.

Following Ivan to the door, the former explained to the siblings, "Okay, here's the plan, we go to the elevator, ignore anything and everything that don't get us closer, use the transport nearby and use it to get to the bunker, huh?" Saudel picked up the younger hybrid up, carrying her. Ivan put a hand on the door slide, "Alright, one, two, three, let's go." Opening the door where he was greeted with a wall of Borg standing right outside and staring at him. Ivan quickly slid the door shut, locking it, turning to the brother and sister, "We might be trapped."

Just as they began pounding on the door, they suddenly stopped, Ivan giving a confused look at the door said to the siblings behind him, "Get back." Before slowly sliding open the door, the barricade of Borg gone, having suddenly dropped to the floor, dead. 'They did it.' Ivan thought, disbelieving and relived. "C'mon! Let's get out of here!" Ivan yelled at T'Kitt's kids.

They came across several dead Borg on their way to safety. They just dropped dead, and Ivan, whether he just came across the unhealthier of the hive or not, saw that a few looked like they were melting or atrophying. The checkpoint to the bunker was overflowing, an excess of people filling the place, and when the Starfleet officers saw the trio, they quickly rushed over and ushered them past the gates and had them huddle amidst the surplus of people, the children taken down into the bunker proper, making Ivan smile satisfactorily as he dropped onto his ass, leant against a wall and fell asleep.

[]

The _Enterprise_ had destroyed the Cube.

The whole, tricking the Borg into a regeneration cycle a booming success, as drones transported throughout the system, including the recently assimilated, just dropped and rested from a lack of access to an alcove, until the Cube itself was destroyed, where the Borg were quickly digested by their own nanoprobes, depriving others the chance to study them in-depth.

Ivan stuck around the bunker until T'Kitt came and had his kids back. He really didn't know how to react to a Martian having difficulty expressing his gratitude, already overwhelmed from his children being safely returned to him. T'Kitt was a stutterer. Like his Mom was when she was excited or was having trouble expressing her feelings. "We're family, after all." Ivan replied to the Martian, "It ain't nothin' but a thing." Ivan ducked out as soon as he could, explaining he had to have a nurse or someone check him out, which wasn't _strictly_ speaking a lie, but was a thing to do at the bottom of the list.

He went home and rested there for two days, waiting for the causality reports, and what the Federation and Starfleet will do about all this. He was beyond relieved when he read that Picard lived, but when he saw how many people across the solar system were killed, almost fifty-thousand, he sighed.

 _Then_ he saw how many ships were destroyed and people KIA at the Battle of Wolf-Three-Five-Nine.

Fifty-seven ships and stations and nearly half a million Starfleet personnel.

Ivan dropped the padd and picked up the bottle of rum, flicking off its caps and chugging a mouthful of the stuff.

[][]

New Mount Seleya didn't have much of a gate around its gardens or any guards patrolling its grounds, so when a drunken sod came rolling and raving to its front doors and found that they were locked, Ivan laughed with frustration. "C'mon! At least be consistent!" He slurred, moving around until he found a stained-glass window and threw himself through it. "You closed for tourists or something?!" He yelled at the handful of startled Martians that were inside, swigging his bottle back before pointing vaguely to them, "Where your elevator at?"

The vulcanoids exchanged several looks between each other, before one pointed to the back and said, "I will be calling the police."

"Do what ya gotta do pal." Ivan waved a hand lazily at him as he lumbered to the turbolift.

Getting inside, Ivan demanded, "Top floor, roof access or whatever." He wasn't even sure if there was a roof access, but one way or another, he was getting to the top of this big boy and get a damn good view. Half a minute later, Ivan was belted by icy wind and grinned as he saw the unobstructed sight.

It was glorious. Majestic. All this had been a barren hellscape just centuries ago, an eyeblink in terms of the vast expanse of time, now billions called it their home. Billions of people who now suddenly knew that it was at constant risk, the universe isn't the golden, cheery place it was yesterday, and it might end tomorrow.

Damn, those cops are taking forever.

He heard the lift open, and Ivan presumptuously demanded, "Well, someone took their sweet time getting here."

A deep, almost croaky voice stated. "Slow I may be today, but every step has a purpose."

Ivan swore he recognized it, and his blood turned to ice as he turned around, dropped the bottle in his hand and quickly looked to the side, a mix of shame and overwhelming meekness as he saw the man.

"What brings you here?" An elderly Spock asked, it didn't have that same drawl that most Martians had in their tones, instead it had an echo of warmth to it that made Ivan feel like he was being talked to by a disappointed parent.

Ivan was silent. He didn't know Spock was here, and here he stood. That forceful, childlike sense of worship being mixed with shock and mortification had finally made him without something to say since he first arrived in this universe.

"Come inside with me, please." Spock turned away and entered the lift, Ivan slowly walking towards him and standing silently at his flank. "Thirtieth floor." He commanded.

"I…" Ivan forced the letter out before he quickly said, "I don't uh know why I'm here."

Spock looked over, Ivan staring at the ground. The lift stopped and they strode out, the room was filled with candles, statues and the smell of a vanilla sweet incense filled the room. "All moments have exacting purpose, do not doubt this." The martian spoke calmly. "If you are worried about the arrival of law enforcement, don't fret, I've already met with them."

Ivan felt suddenly even worse. "You should have let them have me." He sighed.

"You wouldn't have learned what you were seeking then."

Ivan scoffed, "I'm not seeking anything, really. I got drunk and wanted to see what everything looked like from the top of this building, it isn't complicated."

Spock looked at Ivan for several silent moments before asking, "Why are you here?"

"With respect, I just told you. I wanted to see-"

"I didn't mean at this location."

Ivan wasn't sure if Spock knew how he arrived or he was just offering council, but it made him consider why he was there to begin with. He didn't want to think about it. Not only the implications of the pod, and that he was going to have some use for someone out there, but before even that, on his Earth.

When he was a kid, he wanted to own something, something of his own made from his own bare hands, a creation that would last long after was gone and would be compared to all others after. Keep in mind, it was going to be a grocery store that sold only candy, but that… desire didn't change. Then the wars. The death. Then this.

"I don't know, anymore." Ivan offered earnestly. "Haven't known in a long time."

Spock slowly reached for Ivan's face, placing his fingers on one side with practiced, almost ritualistic precision. He fully knew what was going to happen, Ivan not resisting as he closed his eyes and Spock said, "My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts…"

Ivan felt himself being pulled back, gently drawn backwards until he was out of the room… the building… floating up and out, higher and higher, it felt like ages as he was lifted… and that's when Ivan looked down and saw the Milky Way in its grand wonder…

This isn't real… he considered as he looked around and saw a granite pyramid float into the center of his vision, its point connected to the center of the galaxy and as he reached out to touch it, felt himself being violently jerked away, the insane flux of warpspeed feeling like it was peeling his flesh from his bones, where he saw a red sun grow to a massive size before shrinking and exploding forth, spreading itself across the cosmos as a nebula of unbridled beauty, then the warp took him again, even faster and more violently then before and had the sudden, overwhelming feeling of dread wash over him as he grew closer and closer to the burning, planet devouring maw of a massive, blue, neutronium clad cone of destruction.

Ivan yelled out in terror as it engulfed him.

Then he was smacked in the kisser by the polished, wooden floor of New Mount Seleya. His breathing was ragged and he was overcome with exhaustion. Ivan looked up at a visually perturbed Spock and asked rhetorically, "Was it as good for you as it was for me?" Before planting his forehead onto the refreshingly cold floor and asked, "Never thought a mindmeld would be that crazy."

"They generally aren't." Spock replied. "How did you come across this information?"

"What do you mean?"

"The knowledge in your mind, it is unlikely you would come to it own your own."

Ivan, thinking what he knew what Spock was talking about, "I know it's weird, but I promised I wouldn't tell…"

"You can't consciously access it, can you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Joining our minds, I felt something artificially constructed and was only able to gain a glimpse of it when I recalled a moment of terror… flight or fight instincts partially opened it for understanding… 'iuul'… it sounds like a degraded form of Vulcan for 'drive' or 'engine' and the information gleamed from that word was spun in a way completely unnatural to a human mind."

Ivan thought on it, how something was possible.

Then he remembered the 'Presence'… it wasn't a Q and did something to him, but what? "How… how much 'unnatural' stuff did you find in there?"

Spock almost grimaced, "As much as I would think a starship's database could hold, possibly even more."

Ivan breathed deeply out of his nose, "Is that why I'm here? A knowledge drug-mule?"

"No." Spock shook his head slightly, "It's a curiosity I looked upon only after your mind and mine were connected and bridged."

Ivan, though still curious, felt unusually, almost unnaturally calm as he asked Spock, "What have you learned?"

"Your mind is something close to another I have known, he was forced to bear witness to certain elements of human nature in his youth and was forever changed by it. He strove to do great things in his life, and I felt an almost mirror of such a desire in you… but you've been drowning it in self-defeat, misery and doubt."

Ivan bit his lip, "Who was this guy?"

"A good and very old friend of mine." Spock's voice was slightly croakier then before. "He was one of the few eyewitnesses at the massacres of Taurus-Four as a child." He gave a light sigh, "Although, I must say that your experiences were lengthier and weighty, no matter the maturity of the individual, you must learn to bear them, or they will hold you back from what you can become."

Ivan was silent as he listened to the man. Did he now know what Ivan knew? If he did, he was handling the existential crisis rather well, and even giving Ivan his own advice in this.

"Can you not recall events leading up to this point? The Iruujin attack? The Klingons? The Borg? Was there a single moment of misery that clings to you in those circumstances that besiege out of them? You don't desire the fear of injury or death. You _need_ it to function." Spock commented, "And I know how you can wean yourself off this dependence, and learn how to use it to access the information dormant in your mind." Spock gestured to the lift, "Until then, you will be guest here."

Ivan went with the flow. As a couple days passed, he understood why T'Kitt found the place so 'disagreeable'. Nothing to do but meditate, eat, sleep and repeat. It was like being on _Enterprise_ again, only slightly less boring.

Three days after he arrived though, he was approached by Spock and a human at his side, the later of whom asked, "This the guy?"

"He is indeed." Spock responded.

"Alright, we need to get going before security discovers my licenses are out of date." He smiled and offered his hand to Ivan, "Name's Captain David, I'll be your pilot for this trip."

Ivan looked between the two of them and asked, "Trip? I'm grounded, can't leave the planet without Starfleet approval."

"Starfleet already has its hand's full dealing with the Borg's aftermath, they have a dim view of smuggling, but something tells me they won't be on as much patrol for it." David smiled. "Ever been to Andoria? Wonderful place, but the place I'll be dropping ya off at… eesh." He chuckled.

Ivan was taken aback, "Andoria? Why?" Looking specifically at Spock.

"I am in contact with a Zan-Zanair there, as prestigious as it is dangerous, Andorians have a one in two fatality rate, and the few aliens they have training there, it's one to ten."

"Zan-Zanair?"

"It's what you get when you mix a military academy with a church… mix in a smidgen of dojo." David smiled, "Come, we need to leave."

Spock nodded at David before giving Ivan a Martian Salute, "Though the irony of the situation doesn't escape me, I hope you live long and prosper."

Ivan wasn't concerned about the odds, nor the suddenness of the situation, he understood both perfectly well, but he had to ask, "Why are you doing this?"

"You are here for a reason, and if I understand anything from what I glimpsed from your mind, it's that you must become again what you always were but learn how to be something new."

Ivan nodded and smiled, "If I make it, I'll owe you one, it's been great meeting ya."

Following David, they took a cargo freighter out of the system to Andoria. His situation was cramped, uncomfortable, but this unexplained relief of being back in space, with a goal in mind brought more then allowed him to tolerate the lodgings of his host.

A week down the line, they arrived. Transporting him to the frozen planet, Ivan was bundled up in a thick coat, what few belongings he needed in a bag over his shoulder as he looked up at a massive stair case, sighing, he started the long walk up, taking in the alpine beauty of the area, vast mountains reached for the sky and snow lazily fell to the ground. When he finally reached the top, he was awarded the vista of large, blue-jade arches, vast, swooping longhouses and a field two-dozen or so Andorians, going through with what looked like morning PT, an Andorian at the head yelling out orders. Ignoring them, Ivan marched to the head longhouse, opened its doors. Several people stared as Ivan approached the nearest member and asked, "I've been sent here by Ambassador Spock, where do I go and who do I speak to?"

The Andorian's antennas pulled back slightly as he smiled, "He sent a human? I hope you've made the necessary funeral arrangements."

"Sure, you just need a cart and then cast me off the side of this here peak." Ivan smiled back, "Now who do I have to kill to get started?"

The Andorian's grin suddenly dropped in confusion, "You _are_ a human, yes?"

"Unfortunately. Now, where do I go? I won't be asking again, man." Ivan stated simply and with no inflection of humor.

The Andorian scoffed, "You'll be going back down the thousand steps, you won't survive the climate, let alone the re- hurgh!" He was taken completely off guard as shot a knee into his gut and gave him a sharp uppercut as he was bent over, knocking him out, his body flopping onto its back.

Ivan walked up the next Andorian who quickly moved into a fighting posture, "Alrighty hoss, where am I going and who the hell do I talk to?"

"Enough!" A man declared at the back of the hall. An aged, bald Andorian approached the human, "He was one of three firearm instructors at this establishment, even if we accept you for training; you may have just signed your death with your attack."

"Then no one will be surprised if I get offed, right?"

The Andorian rolled his jaw as his antennae flexed at harsh angle from his scalp. "You will fight _how_ I want you to fight, with _whom_ I wish you to fight, is this understood human?"

"Perfectly." Ivan nodded.

Quickly looking to one of the other Andorians in the hall, he declared, "Zh'evhanorah!"

Ivan blinked, "I think my translator had a stroke." He said quietly as an Andorian, a woman, walked to the cleared-out center of the hall. "I assume you want me to take her down."

The old Andorian smiled, "I wouldn't put a wager on it, but you can certainly try."

Ivan dropped his duffle, unzipped his coat and discarded it as well, "Hope you ain't expecting any fancy moves." Bringing his fists up, "For some reason I thought this place was more gun then kung."

The woman was silent as she presented herself in a combative stance, one arm high behind her the other low and in front. Ivan made tiny paces towards her and she responded by quickly walking to the side, keeping her distance.

Ivan was more then a little paranoid at getting into CQC with aliens since Ares, but Andorians weren't Vulcans or Klingons, and if he didn't press an attack, he's liable to get kicked out as a coward. Ivan rushed at her as fast as he could, keeping his arms close as he made his jab.

He wasn't completely certain how he was on his back. There was that moment where she grabbed a wrist, but he doubted she could have used that alone to flip him. Ivan coughed a gasp before quickly scurrying up as she brought a knee down where his head was, "Careful sugar-pie, if I was a suspicious man, I would think you're trying to kill me!" Bringing his hands up closer to his face, thinking if he approached slow and heavy, get her as close as possible, and beat her like she owed her money. He was able to block the kick with an elbow, but she was able to quickly whip out the other leg and it slapped across the side of his head like a block of asphalt.

Ivan took a stunned couple steps back, lazily having his fists up and wearily asked, "Yeah… that all got? Had enough?"

The Andorian woman seemed mildly amused as she took out a small phaser and shot Ivan with it, nadions quickly bringing the man down. As she turned to speak to the master, she froze as Ivan continued to drawl out, "Uhhhhgh! Ch… cheatin'… this…" Before finally falling unconscious.

The Master grinned, "I like him, what do you think?"

"I think we should keep him, father." Zh'evhanorah nodded, looking at the weapon's instructor, "For as long as possible, at least."

[][]


	6. 6- Headhunter's Whimsy

" _petaQ_!" Hal'Qin slapped his neck, _again_. Whatever bug that's been pestering him and him alone had enough power in it to agitate a Klingon. " _ghew quvHa'! Hegh ghaH jotlh je jIvumnISchugh_!"

"Last time I pull patrol with the quadrant's most talkative Klingon." Emin sighed, his muffles barely heard over the pounding rain, and for the better. While Hal'Qin refused to ever utilize a language that was translatable, the strange, technologically defiant tongue that klingonese is, the Klingon very well would have understood the human.

"Quit gripping!" Kavoth's Vulcan strength nearly toppling the human over as he shoved playfully on the former's shoulder, "Between you and Hal'Qin, I'd sooner have scrubbed the base clean then volunteer for this."

All of their faces hidden behind plain, sterile grey helmets, visors covering them from brows to chin, with only single strips of red light for eyes as the equipment secured to them snuggly. While it had only a limited sensor suite, the warmth it provided while on had helped the rainy, midnight vigil be more endurable.

" _mu'qaD_!" Hal'Qin cursed, smacking his neck again. " _mejDI' maS yIn nuq jIHvaD yIv qaStaHvIS vIq muD_?" But as the Klingon looked to the earth, searching for his illusive adversary; he spotted a shiny, grey, metallic pearl in the wet, shifting mud. Reaching out with gloved digits to pick it up for further inspection, he yelled out to his fellows some paces away, " _QI'yaH! Dochvam nuq_?"

Intrigued, the patrollers turned to see the man holding the pearl out. "Where'd you find that?" The human asked and walked closer to inspect it.

The Vulcan shook his head, "It's either hail from the weather or something that fell off something else when they were building our base, can we just keep on walking?"

The Klingon agreed to some degree, giving a dismissive groan before throwing the tiny orb at the wall to his right, the metal pearl quickly being intensely shocked, sparks quickly lighting briefly in disagreement, the intense reaction exacerbated from the substance of the object alongside the rain.

[]

+Voice Analysis Complete+ Appeared in the top right corner of the visor before disappearing, hunter barely taking his eyes off his prey.

'Klingon: weakness to lower left to sternum, ribcage slightly undersized for secondary organs, instigates immediate activation of suffocation alarm when struck.' A single red optic stared at the armed entourage of three as they patrolled the compound. 'Vulcanoid: standard gravity forces slight overcompensation of movement, superior strength does not provide any resilience.' Moving to the next, 'Human:' Pausing only slightly, 'eliminate first.'

The lens brightened for a moment before quickly dimming, the wearer's display marking a path of this individual patrol with a blue '12' that would follow around the wall of the base, predicting only typical actions that it has monitored for the last few hours, one through eleven had been highlighted in the ramshackle buildings and prefab structures that this merry group of miscreants had cobbled together into the smuggler's compound. The observing hunter, however, knew the denizens were smarter than what could be judged by their sense of architecture; comm-units had been monitoring their owner's vitals, if their vitals stop or are stunned the whole place would know the hunter was there, alongside non-standard pirate or smuggler hardware. Most of the local criminal elements in the sector were restricted to disruptors they could procure from Klingon armories or Ferengi arms dealers; these smugglers held standard issue Cardassian phaser-rifles, Magus assault-lances, and a configuration of Varon disruptor that the hunter couldn't identify. Whoever the quarry was; they weren't poor.

The lens of the iron helm shrunk slightly almost in thought with its user, a cocktail of mental stimulants rushed through the hunter's body, being compounded by the reflex accelerants that already saturated his system, combing through all the elements he has been gathering since he arrived on the smuggler's moon. The electrified wall, only three ways in and out from the ground, landside fusion power generator alongside two separate emergency batteries, transport inhibitor field, the hundred or more personnel in the compound, the exotic equipment they use, and the more or less professional training they had.

The hunter's armour shifted in color as he began to crawl down from his tree bound lookout that just managed to overlook the base, the vegetation declining in proliferation as he carefully crawled on his belly down the muddy hill side, but fast enough to catch the stalked patrol as they began to round the next corner, out of sight and out of mind of the nearest tower and entry gate. Pulling out the pistol once again, the weapon connecting to his armour's systems from the grip, displaying the ammo he had available and what type of ammunition he was using in particular: 'BB – 92', in the bottom right corner.

The pistol was massive, at least compared to other pistols, more comparable to a compact submachinegun, being long as from the tips of his fingers to the middle of the forearm, a magazine as big as his clenched fist at the front, nearly under the barrel. The reticule of where the weapon was pointed in his vision, but even as his stealthy crawl forced the barrel to point out of his vision, a tiny window popped up in the bottom left, a camera feed from the gun its self relaying information to him of what it saw.

The hunter's approach was so carefully committed and expertly performed that not once did the patrol look his way for long, and when he knew that he was risking discovery from sheer proximity and knowing the limits of the active camouflage of his armour, he pointed his gun back at the Klingon, the lens zooming in on the neck specifically. Squeezing the trigger so slowly that it was a surprise when it silently shot at the man, the Klingon throwing a plethora of curses, but the Vulcan did hear his silenced weapon fire to some degree and was looking towards his direction with conviction. Quickly pointing his weapon to the wall directly behind them, he fired a flurry of simple bb's at the nondiscriminatory electrical defenses, quickly startling and shifting the whole patrol's attention to the light and shocking noise his volley produced; shooting up from his prone position with such speed and lightning fast ability, that in the span of nearly two seconds, the hunter had holstered his pistol, retrieving the knife near it in one smooth motion on his right thigh while he clenched his fist into his shock-dusters on his left, the pounding of mud from his short sprinting only just reaching the ears of the patrolmen.

The Andorian ten-thousand folded bladed slid succulently into the submental space between the jaw and neck of the human, the hunter focusing on insuring the base of the brain was not severed, but did indeed kill the man instantly, the human knelt to his death throes as the hunter pulled out the blade, throwing his fist under the knife arm, his dusters smacking into the klingon's lower-mid chest, not only briefly electrocuting the creature but debilitating him before the hunter crouched slightly, turning to his right and stabbing the lower right of the readying Vulcan, the knife puncturing the liver, just under the heart, angling the back of the blade to hook the Vulcan downwards towards himself before upper cutting the man, driving the Vulcan unconscious, falling just as the human was fully laying on the ground. Having left the knife in the vulcan's abdomen, he retrieved his pistol with practiced perfection, thinking 'Silenced Anti-Personnel', the ammunition indicator quickly changing to the specified variety, just as he pointed the weapon to the keeled over Klingon and fired it point blank, the bullet spraying blood across his hands and helmet from the as it obliterated the right eye and everything right of it in a spray of gore.

Unsure whether he had committed overkill on the Klingon and destroyed his infiltration plan just as it began, he silently muttered, "Fuck…" As he knelt down, retrieving a small, grey, fat disc and dropping it on the muddy ground between all three bodies before quickly typing several commands into his left gauntlet, 'False-Heart to decoy.' He mentally commanded, before pointing the scanner on the bottom of his left forearm over the guards.

+Warning: Overburdened System Popped up+ "Fuck…" He spat again. 'Override.' The hunter knew he couldn't spare anymore decoys inside the base proper, and if the machine was over taxed trying to send false information to their comm-badges; it'd cause errors, shorten the power supply and maybe even explode, the Pakled battery inside was reliable and tough, but the bang it made was a few shades short as entertaining as a firework's show. It could send false signals on one humanoid good and long, two was pushing it, three was discouraged, but the hunter failed to count for the fact that a klingon's two hearts and various other organs that were literally doubled in their number when he attacked the patrol.

'Estimated lifespan?' The hunter thought's directed at the drone. +Three minutes, seventeen seconds+

'Assign countdown to HUD.', he thought "A speed run it is." He titled his head slightly at the timer that appeared in his vision, as he shot the still out-cold Vulcan in the before retrieving the knife out of the corpse's gut. 'Detonate.' He thought simply towards his pistol, having stuck the generator with detonation round at the beginning of his hunt, he didn't have enough specialized matter or latinum on hand to replicate more than one such complicated shot before coming to the planet, needing not only the ability to be reached via signal or shot out of the gun itself, but to be coated in such a material where it stuck to surfaces for a long while plus deflected detection.

However, the explosion did offer several seconds to vault over the wall while everything switched to backups, 'Grappling-Line', reaching to a compartment on his suit's waist to smack a magnetic claw on the pistol barrel before firing it at near the top of the wall, 'Detach!' He nearly yelled out loud, the magnetic force within the pistol still somehow surprising him, using the momentum to only barely fly over the wall's top but descend on the opposite side, sticking the landing but barely and nearly slipping as he walked carefully forward, caked to the waist in splattering mud.

His helm still tracked the various groupings and squads within the base, many quickly manning the tower guns, rushing to gates, or going to guard central command near the center of the base and where the primary target lies.

'Solid-Slug.' He thought, the gun dropping the magnet to his waiting hand. Hopping to the pursuit, the hunter made a mad dash to the nearby vacant structure, planted a drone on the wall and timed it to the first decoy's count down, before taking a green, walnut sized orb from his pouch, 'Grenade: High Explosive' running a it over his left gauntlet before rolling it to the corner of the room.

Avoiding patrols, and planting two other drone-grenade spots on his way to command, reading out that most comm signals reached to the top of the structure, he carefully scaled the building, using both his hands to grab onto leverage and his magnetic grapple free of his pistol to stealithy make his way up, his helm pinging him when a patrol may be within visual distance. Finding the top and the antenna, the hunter reached around and pulled out a cord from his gauntlet, prying open the antenna's base access and inserting the tip into one of the auxiliary ports. The armour quickly connecting to the hardware, the hunter spoke. "Underboss Kaimin, previously of the Orion Syndicate." The comm-units on all those who wore them in the base, giving a slight echo as the man spoke. "And to all those on his pay roll; the Orion Syndicate sends its regards and unless the underboss vacates the base alone, and heads south for a kilometer, none of you are exempt from the punishment prescribed by our employers." The drone was nearly beginning to overload, almost a dozen seconds out, "Our strikeforce will arrive in several seconds." The hunter expected that they would not comply, if simply threatening them all solved all their problems, the Syndicate wouldn't have need to hire him.

Ten… nine… "Know that if Kaimin is killed, no one will be harmed. Place his body nearly a kilometer outside of the base." Five… four…

His sensors didn't read any weapons fire, and the hunter disconnected using the antenna, looking over the base and readying his weapon, changing the magazine he had. While the previous one was relatively full, it was only usable for more benal ammunition, and when he slapped in the next one and snapped back the loader on top the pistol, he thought, 'Long-Range Seeker', with a meager twenty shots appearing, his HUD showing several lines targeting exposed combatants, able to fly the designated path to each.

Two… one…

The decoy at the corner of the base imploded, a plume of orange flame quickly floating to the sky, the false readings on the patrol outside disappearing. The base quickly ran towards the action apparent, his other drones giving off transporter signatures in the vacent structures, with several guards opening fire on the buildings, presumeldy to keep those inside pinned down while others began to clear them.

While they did so, the hunter pointed his pistol, directing his thoughts to one of the farthest out, but still clearly in his sights, the quary in question looking over the outside of the building as his squad kicked down the door.

Firing.

The man's masked head flew back before he just dropped.

This sent the rest of the men into terrible panic, the weapon taking down their comrade giving no light or sound they were used to, phasers, disruptors, all bright and loud as they were used, and the position gave the impression that their adversaries were on the opposite side of the base that the hunter was, showing him all their backs as they sought to protection or herded themselves into his tagged buildings in order to protect themselves.

His computer counted more or less half of the base's active inhabitants, some fifty-seven souls, most in the open.

'Full Auto.' Pointing his pistol out before commanding, 'All Active Grenades: Detonate.'

The three explosions made the decoy's seem like child's play in comparison, the shock waves even pushing the hunter slightly as debris and minced bodies flew in all directions, but he didn't wait a moment after to assess the resultant detonations, simply squeezing the trigger and watched, a second later, as twenty other blips disappeared, the micro-rockets finding their new homes wondrously.

The hunter reloaded a moment not too soon, as the survivors whom were recovered or distance enough to be unphased by his traps, quickly traced their attackers vantage point to back at their headquarters, two able to see him clearly enough to shoot at the top of the building.

The hunter ducked down, commanding, 'Solid-Slug, Sniper-mode!' His helm's vision changing to the appropriate setting, his sights quickly focusing, the paths of his shots adjusting for wind, atmospheric resistance and any differing minutia of gravity, popped one, then another, another again, while most of the others were still suffering from the massive explosions. Either due to the sheer force of it all or perhaps they weren't wearing ear protection, this allowed the hunter to simply scoff, before shooting those who still meandered in the open, and then those few who were behind cover and nervously looking for him, their friends or anything to give direction in their daze.

The hunter killed them all. He assumed that those few who managed to either fight or resist the detonations were Klingons, nausicans or other more physically resilient or combatively focused individuals. Which means that the few inside were going to be the easiest to deal with or the absolute worst if there was so few of the tougher specimens outside.

Taking his electro-dusters, he set it the highest setting, making it a makeshift welding torch and as he pressed it against the HQ's roof, even his gloves failed to fully protect him from the heat. Hearing commotion from bellow, he rolled away, dropping the duster as several phaser shots scorched through the breach he was carving, 'Stupid!' Blowing a hole in the roof as he reached for a grenade, "Grenade: Smoke!" He said aloud, before sliding it into the cavity, falling into the room beneath him. "Armour-Piercing, Rapid-Fire!" Charging towards his half-carved opening, his shots bursting it apart crudely as he slid into it, fell flat on his shoulder with a gasp, his HUD switching thermal, tracking the blind and clumsy fire of his quarry. 'Solid-Slug.' He commanded, before his gun pumped his enemies with bullets, by the hunter's estimates two or three had ran out of the room when he dropped the smoke if not a little later.

Running to the side of the door, he picked up a grenade, his last one, and commanded, 'Sapper.' Before rolling it down the hall, and to the ladder in the middle of the floor, his helm quickly registering it was sending layering the environment with lasers for any shapes or signs of combatants, and as it finally made a small click as it found the hole leading down a level.

Someone must've gotten curious about it, because he heard the sharp pop of the grenades automated destruct followed up by a painful scream. +Three Lifeforms+ It read back to the hunter. He ran hopped down the ladder access and pointed his weapon towards a tall specimen, staring down at one of his comrades, screaming and cursing at the former, "SHOOT THE BASTARD YOU IDIOT KLINGON!" The hunter did see the Klingon was indeed holding a disruptor at his side but didn't point it at the intruder, and the blank visor showed no expression that the interloper could read, still keeping his weapon trained on the Klingon. "WHAT ARE YOU-?!" The Klingon shot the wounded man, and immediately dropped the pistol to the floor.

"You!" The Klingon lifted his helmet and threw it to the side of the hall, "You've killed many today, and while I find great distaste in consorting with criminals, if I can complete my duty while fulfilling my desire to fight one such as that has made a name for oneself such as you, Headhunter, I will take the chance." The Klingon appeared to be quiet considerably advanced in age, his hair, once tied professional was grey and wild, matching a toothy grin has he retrieved his D'k tahg, "The Orions were wise to send you to retrieve the one I serve, but I fear that you are overqualified. Know: that if you get past me, little else will be between you and him, and if I am to die for such a disgraceful worm, I shall die in his service in honourable combat, what say you?"

The hunter did not respond, at least verbally. His scanners were going over the Klingon for additional weapons, and detected none, nor did the sensor drone that he deployed in local air-space find any means of rapid escape for his target.

The single red-lens amid the carbon black helmet, expressionless and stoic, leaned down once in agreement before safteying his pistol and tossing it aside casually. The hunter unlatched his gauntlets and let them fall to the ground, then unclasped his belt, disengaged his cuirass, leaving him in his black, featureless jumpsuit and pulled out his own knife, slowly walking towards the Klingon before readying himself into a fighting stance before stopping a meter and a half away. 'Klingon is above average in build, will likely try to keep me at a distance to capitalize on his superior reach.' He hypothesized.

"Keeping the helmet on, our we? It's like that story about you and the Pirate Queen, 'She told him to keep the helmet o-'"

"Shut your mouth and fight, old man." His voice boomed out, impossibly low from the helmet modifying his speech.

The Klingon underhanded his dagger and lunged at the hunter with remarkable speed, such that the hunter was taken off guard and barely managed avoid his thrust to his chest, stepping back to bring down his knife to the Klingon in return, only for his opponent's opposing fist to smash into his chest, pushing him further off balance.

The hunter was almost giddy. He quickly shifted his weight even further back and made a small flip, avoiding the klingon's stab forward, before the hunter landed and kicked forward, catching the Klingon on the ridges, while the strongest part of the Klingon without par, the force itself set the man back three steps to recuperate from the blow, almost toppling over. The old warrior was well experienced however, quickly shaking his head and relieved to see that the hunter did not take advantage of his disarray, standing several paces back. "Good for you to respect your elders."

"You're no dahar master, but it would be a shame for you to die so quickly and without an ounce of respect." Hunter replied, "Are you ready?"

The venerated Klingon smiled gleefully once more and readied his blade, "Indeed!"

The positions of defender and attacker were switched in this renewed engagement, as the hunter sprung forward with eager desire, using his superior agility, laden with combat enhancements and unrestrained by his armour to last out with his blade, the Klingon only just bringing the dagger up to block, before the hunter quickly kicked his opponent in the chest himself, with no effect. The Klingon struck the hunter with his opposing fist, hitting him right in the ocular lens which made a satisfying crack, quickly running his dagger down the chest of his dazed enemy, the D'k tahg running smoothly over and through the undersuit and flesh of of Headhunter, before he quickly stabbed at where the unprotected flesh of the abdomen meets the ribcage of most humanoids, finding succulent purchase as red blood briefly poured out of the wound.

The Klingon expected Headhunter to die right there or go into shock, seemingly to the disappointment of the man, but after a half second of inactivity, the hunter slashed down at the klingon's hand, cutting it off at the wrist.

"AHH!" The Klingon couldn't help but yell out in panic, old as he may be, he has never lost a hand. Holding the stump in an old too familiar fashion to the cowardly fool he gunned down to have this battle unimpaired by fools, the Klingon saw that the hand he had was still grasping the knife in the side of the hunter.

The latter of which didn't seem shocked or by extension even wounded, as the hunter sheathed his blade, and grasped the klingon dagger in his side. Fully expecting the blade to be unbloodied, his undersuit hiding armour and sullying this contest, was surprised to notice that not only did more blood spill out of the knife penetration as he pulled it out, dark crimson, barely seen on the jumpsuit's umbra exterior, was somewhat visible as it slowly shined in the light.

The Klingon couldn't help but smile. "What kind of creature are you?" Certain he himself was in shock.

"It doesn't matter." The hunter sighed. "Do you want to live? Defeat is yours, but your life can be of use to others still."

The Klingon growled at the offer, "I will not turn away from my death." Releasing his blood covered wrist, and holding his available hand up. "We are continuing this until someone is dead!"

The hunter pried the fingers off the dagger, before tossing it at the Klingon whom caught it without issue, taking out his own knife in silent consent to the fight.

The battle ended as quickly as the Klingon expected using his non-dominant hand. The aged warrior struck first and without mind to skill, restraint nor care for his life, and the Headhunter easily avoid the brash attack, landing his knife in the klingon's neck. The Klingon only gave a fatigued sigh as he fell back, gargling, choking on his life fluid. The hunter quickly knelt by his adversary, picked up the D'k tahg, felt his hand coil around it, before he placed by his enclosed fist and blade at the center of his chest almost ceremoniously, before the hunter placed the pointed of his knife onto the tips of his temples and stabbed, ending the klingon's life without any further suffering.

The Headhunter allowed himself a brief reprieve, giving several deep breaths as he re-equipped his gauntlets, scanning the wound and reading; +Deep puncture: fatal blood loss imminent+ Putting on his cuirass, reconnecting to the rest of his armour, then administrating a coagulant to the wound and painkillers to the area, giving a relieved gasp. Taking up his pistol, the hunter spared one last look at his defeated opponent and said, " _Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam,_ old man." Before bringing his pistol up, and proceeding further into the building's command center for his target.

[]

Kaiman waited in his seat, staring at the door in the dim light of the center of his operation, disruptor pistol on his lap, his hand wrapped fearfully.

The former underboss straightened and stopped breathing altogether as he heard weapons fire. 'He's close.' The denobulan clenched and unclenched his jaw nervously. Kaiman was startled out of the personal dilemma of oncoming death by crying in the corner, forcing the man to smile and say, "Shhh shhh, it's going to be alright."

Then came the moment of truth, the two guards he left outside to guard the door, his last defense and chance to live another day, yelled out in panic something nausican, fired their weapons before quickly being silenced with groans and moans. The door's handle was shot open, a perfect hole where the lock was, before the opening slid open and in walked his executioner.

It was indeed who Kaiman had feared; Headhunter, his trademark dark grey power suit and helmet. Only those who could afford his rates know what he truly looked like or even what race he was. The single red eye oppressing the denobulan, simply staring at him, streaks of blood drooling off his helmet and arms.

Kaiman was hesitant to even move, knowing that any poor move on his end would make his dying wish die with him. So, he lifted the pistol slowly, keeping it down before tossing it to the side of the room, a bit too close to a certain someone who was hiding in that particular corner, before standing up, hands fully displayed to the hitman as he began to say, "Please, I wou- hegh!" Being shot over his chair by Headhunter, the bullet penetrating his neck and severing the spine.

The hunter retrieved a simple fabric bag from one of the pockets on his belt, tossing it to the floor besides the body as he brandished his knife while lifting the head up by the grip of his hair. Then Headhunter slashed the blade down, the body making a wet plop as he lifted the head free from its owner. Packing the head into the bag without even an once of hesitancy, tying it closed and wrapping it around his belt, he heard something, making the hunter freeze.

A disruptor charging up.

Quickly crouching, the energy blast narrowly missed the hunter as he shot back his weapon towards its source, near the mouth of the room's entrance.

At first, the hunter thought he simply missed a guard, but as he switched to thermal vision, he saw a small body.

Despite himself, despite the professionalism he tries to keep to and despite the personal conversation the hunter was having to himself, he immediately dropped his smoking pistol and ran towards the child he just shot.

It was a denobulan, he saw from the back at least, the underboss's child he assumed. Blood was pooling over the floor, the child was face down to the floor. He hesitated reaching out to it, but instead ran his scanner over it.

+Vitals Critical+

Immediately hopeful, the hunter turned the boy over. At that moment, he registered two things: one, he had a belly wound and if he catches it now, the kid will live. Two, the boy in question was still very much conscious and pointing his father's disruptor directly at his head.

The moment seemed to last an eternity to the hunter, the registering of the weapon, how it would be impossible for him to avoid its fire, his actions and how terrible they be, and the boy, murder in his eyes and how deserving it was.

Then the disruptor shot the hunter, the lens and a large amount of the helmet itself being blown away.

[]

 _Fourty-Two hours later…_

The Starfleet security team were almost haunted at the sheer destruction they had to report.

The Borderland was a tough place, and barbarity was nowhere near in short supply, but there were well over a hundred dead to categorize; torn apart, shot or sliced in exotic fashions wholly unfamiliar to the crew of the USS _Pelican_ , the ship who received the distress signal. Most criminal bases, however, wouldn't dare request such aid, especially if they were affiliated with the Orion Syndicate, the various codes and laws warned against such and as they investigated further, the stranger and stranger it all became.

Of course, the first thing they looked for was survivors, of which, there was only one; a denobulan boy of ten years, having suffered an injury that matched the wounds others had received in the base, but it was already attended to, and while the physicians complained how 'messy' the attempt was, his life was saved. After a day with the on-board councilor, the child confessed what little it knew, how the attacker was unlike anything he had seen, that it had killed and taken the head of his father, and that the 'cyclops' was going to kill him before the boy shot him.

The team did find several pieces of bizarre armour, wholly unrecognized in both its make and its function.

Despite the sheer inability to identify the attacker, the boy did see a glimpse of a symbol on his shoulder and drew it for the Starfleet personnel.

A roman numeral: 'IV'

"Ivy!" A squat, half-Tellarite smiled cheerfully over his dinner as the door opened, "Whoa! What happened to you?!" Almost the entire top of his charge's helmet was blown off, his left eye was visible and swallon, where the red lens that usually adorns the center was a smoking crater. The hitman entered their shared apartment with fatigued sluggishness.

"Got my ass kicked…" He answered, "Eustace, mind telling our contact I'll deliver his prize in three hours? And my shuttle needs some tuning." As he put the denobulans head, still in its bag on the table Eustace was eating at.

The hybrid squinted aggravatedly. "That's far from sanitary…" He said quietly at the bag, "Can't you do yjose yourself? I'm in the middle of something…" Gesturing to his plate of Jerminium Barley Puffs and Vulcan-Mollusk Steak.

"I'm going to pass out…" Ivan explained, so quiet that his partner barely heard it.

It was far from the hyperbole Eustace thought it was; Headhunter toppled over and fell unconscious.

[]


	7. 7- Bitter Brisk

Eustace roared as he tried to pull Ivan off his front and onto his back, the armor impossibly heavy for its size, "You couldn't die _after_ I finished eating?" Reaching for the medpack on the back of his belt, the pack unclasped and more than a little of Eustace's Tellarite heritage piqued at what was revealed, "YOU ALREADY USED ALL ITS ENERGY, YOU IDIOT?!" At first Eustace thought his combatively focused compatriot had simply forgotten to recharge the tools in the kit, but he noted fresh blood, still wet if slightly congealed on his instruments, sealed within the small pack, and loosely secured at its bottom; a bullet, one from Ivan's very weapon.

Instantly putting two and two together in a very loose context; Eustace shook his head, "You… you're either lazy; forgot to clean and recharge it, or you saved someone… either way, I spit on you!" While a sizeable section of the helmet had been shot crudely off, certain systems still had power, which explained how Ivy was able to see and breathe, but certain systems were most definitely _not_ functional, namely; the trigger beneath the chin to release the helmet so it could be lifted off the hitman's noggin.

"Always something!" Eustace yelled out, unclasping his utility gauntlet and scanned Ivan with it, where the machine informed its user _; +Severe burns to head, internal bleeding, lacerations, deep penetrative trauma to abdominal region, severe bruising, arterial-+_

"Nothing his pod won't handle, good!" Slamming the gauntlet on the table before dragging him to the 'iPod' in Ivy's room, an ugly contraption, the worst thing that Eustace was ever made to look at; more of a box then a proper pod, isolinear circuits and some of the cheapest batteries Eustace ever came across bulbously violating the vision of any whom happen to look on it, minimal paneling, no attention to hiding the components from view or protecting them from simple wearing due to the local environment, something possible even in their carefully controlled quarters. Grotesque green metals, salvaged from a Klingon shuttle canopy, was the exposed, rotting skeleton that held the finer components around the medical pod at its center, something fabricated from isolation units both he and Ivy scrapped together in archived schematics, but it was almost humorously large compared to the human's frame, easily able to take in and comfortably accommodate some of the bigger species that they've seen.

"Alright, don't go anywhere…" Eustace sighed wearily as he dropped Ivy's arms to the ground and opened his iPod, several small platforms and arms almost waking up as they sprung from several holes and blisters in the sides of its hold, "Emergency repairs!" He ordered his machine as he started stripping Ivy to just his jumpsuit, "Full detox as soon as he's stable," Taking the hyperspanner from his belt, Eustice began taking apart his partner's helmet, piece by arduous piece, "Your payment to all this trouble will be pain, little human." The outer plate, or what was left of it, fell off, giving a clearer view of the weapons fire that scorched and smoldered a large portion of Ivy's face, whether due to some kind of bizarre effect or maybe simple exposure to the environment gave the man an allergic reaction, his right eye was nearly covered over in bloated, burned, aggravated flesh. "I mean, on top of the amount you've already received." Knowing well that the detox cycle from the combat drugs he used was an accelerated experience through the nine circles of hell and be even worse with the state he's in but wouldn't do any lasting damage.

Pulling off the secondary dispersal layer, the half-Tellarite gave a mournful groan, "Pig shit!" he cursed, "The interface mesh was worth more than most of your gear, did you put your face _inside_ a fusion jet to get it this badly ruined?" But as he started to peel it off, something hitched and as he pulled a small jet of blood shot out in Eustace's direction, sprinkling his sparse, ginger beard in deeper crimson, and the amount that flowed from the newly made wound _really_ made Eustace worry, quickly pushing any complaint aside and shoving the human into the iPod, the small mechanical arms collecting him harshly, securing Ivy inside before the hatch closed and polarized the glass. The computer interface next to the iPod registered severe trauma and stabilization will begin shortly.

"Too old for this." Eustace waved his hands dismissively at the iPod before returning to his dining table, muttering to himself, "Couldn't just leave me be at Markov-Three's drydock? Had to get the Syndicate to give you a damn recommendation for a tech… shoulda just turned their green asses away." Sitting at the chair, he breathed out, his body quickly reminding him that he was no longer in his youth, that he should remember that middle age had its pains and aches all their own. "Now if you get killed, the race of criminal body-builders and pinups will come for me first and probably just take my head off and bury you with it in some show of dignity or respect or… something." Shaking his head before turning back to his dinner plate, he prodded the slug, now lukewarm and returning some elements of its slimy, uncooked form, and as he contemplated just sacking up and eating the damn thing, he looked across the table, seeing the lifeless though covered, remains of Ivy's work. Able to clearly see where eyes, nose and mouth were, it felt like it was staring at him, and what little courage he had to finish his meal was gone. "Great, now I'm not hungry _and_ won't be getting any sleep tonight." Leaving the table, he sent a subspace message to their employer that they would fulfill their contract presently awaiting dropoff coordinates, picking up his toolbox and leaving their apartment, he stared out in the communal hall window, the slowly dying red sun at the center of the solar system and Allon Prime not too far off to the right, taking up much of the view, being the anchor that locked their habitat in its gravity and orbit, dull greens of flora and blues of oceans choked into near violet by the vast fields of kelp that is farmed in the planet's waters, pinpricked by dots of yellow light from its various citizens, visitors and guests.

Seeing it all made Eustace glad he was in space again, blessing or curse, Ivy brought him back into it. Seeing the celestial bodies, Eustace allowed himself a private smile and spotted his reflection in the window. He had lost much of the hair on top of his head, deciding to just shave it all off, but age endowed whiskers he never had as a yungin', pale skin made flush due to recent events met bright blue eyes hidden under bushy eyebrows, before falling to a wide, flat nose and ending with thick lips folding up into a sneer, barely hidden by a wirey orange beard. 'At least my human side made me pretty compared to other Tellarites.' Eustace constantly reminded himself, before scoffing, his nose moving slightly from the action, and said, "Get back to work, you ugly bastard." To himself.

[]

" _Human." Annel smiled as he peered at Ivan at the doorway of his quarters. "How's the eye?"_

" _Don't worry, if it happens to fall out, I have a second one. But, the lack of depth perception might make an 'accident' at the shooting range more likely." Trying not to think about his throbbing ocular cavity._

" _Don't dig yourself further into the latrine, boy." Annel warned sternly. "Put that down, we're taking you hiking."_

 _Ivan dropped his padd, continuing to display a Tellarite explaining his techniques of self-discipline, the human quickly picked up his pack, asking as he crossed the door's threshold, "Who's coming with- ah!" Ivan was smacked against his shoulder, and as he was forced to spin from the force, dropped his bag and threw an elbow at his new assailant, not recognizing the Andorian as he quickly paced towards Ivan and tried to kick him again, Ivan backpedaling and trying to recognize the stances and styles he can only crudely recall from his first set of studies these last few days. It was a useless effort however, as Annel himself introduced Ivan to one of his fists, and despite the painful crunch that rattled out of his mouth, Ivan smiled mentally as he saw the instructor cradle his hand, having gotten cut open by Ivan's teeth, and the unfamiliar metallic taste of blood only beginning to mix with his own._

 _The human took a blow to his gut and nearly bowled over by the newcomer's strong kick, but forced himself to stay up and spat the mingled blood in his mouth at the attacker while he was still close, the man yelling in shock as he tried to wipe his eyes, Ivan making use of that half second of shock to nail the Blue in the chest with his own kick, knocking him down, but the Andorian launched himself up with practiced ease, his hands pushing him back up as his back just touched the ground._

 _Ivan looked quickly back at Annel, whom was in close to him and no matter how fast he backed up, he was in at point-blank and shot his fist at him, the punch choking him as it impacted his neck, Ivan's instincts took over, panicked by the lack of air, and easily taken off his feet by Annel, forced on his back as the Andorian locked his knee down on his neck, depriving him further of not only oxygen but blood to his brain, and he was quickly drifting into unconsciousness as he swung his arms wildly, only for Annel to hold them in place._

 _Just as his vision drained of light, Annel lifted himself from Ivan, the later coughing hoarsely as he massaged his throat. "Not bad, human." The Andorian looked over his injured hand, "Mostly luck, but decent."_

 _As Ivan looked up at Annel, the other Andorian paced to Ivan and kicked him in the ribs. Strangely, Annel quickly shoved his comrade back and stood in front of him, "The ambush is complete, he'll get enough pain for his failure soon enough! Do something against this place's Conventions again, I throw you off this mountain." Annel threatened sternly, his quarry whom quickly bowed slightly as he departed the two. Annel turned back around to Ivan and stated, "You know what's going to happen now, right?"_

" _Yes." Ivan croaked out, "When…" Coughing before continuing, "will it start?"_

" _Immediately." Annel offered his blood covered hand to Ivan, the human stared at it with scornful ire. "I won't harm you further."_

 _Ivan pushed his paranoia aside and took it, being hoisted up. "Didn't think I'd get ambushed this soon, I assume you held a grudge?"_

 _Annel's features were cold as he stared at Ivan, "Think of it as payback for your own ambush, we're even." But Ivan was shocked at how earnest Annel sounded as he said, "Tell the master you'll leave, and the punishment will be annulled, this training regime isn't for everyone and you're already at a disadvantage."_

 _Ivan tried to laugh but only made him cough more, "Sorry man, but I'm balls to bones with this, I either do it or it kills me."_

 _Annel didn't say anything more on the matter, but Ivan thought he saw a ghost of a smile form before it was quickly quashed, "Go to the courtyard, I will inform the master of your failure."_

 _Ivan sighed, "Yeah."_

 _As he waited, a small crowd formed, with master Zh'evhanorah paced out, flanked by the chick that beat Ivan's ass first day, and the disciplinarian, holding a rod as big as Ivan's own arm. With a sense of foreboding acceptance, Ivan removed his training uniform's tunic and walked towards the trio, bowing and stating, "I have been defeated by a Convention-complaint ambush and accept punishment in whatever form deemed equal to my failure." Pausing every so often to remember the exact words to be said in this situation, and while he didn't give it an extensive study, the scenario that it pertained made it stick in his noggin a little surer than the other stuff._

" _So be it." The master stated, looking to the rod equipped Andorian and said, "Flog him a dozen times!"_

" _Wait!" Annel declared, quickly pacing to Ivan's side and held towards the man a small, wooden stick, no longer then a finger, wrapped in leather cords that reminded Ivan of the various blade grips he's seen throughout the place. "Bite on this." Ivan eyed the crude mouth guard with a kind of thankful weariness._

 _Ivan nodded, taking the guard in his jaws, clenching and unclenching his teeth against it as he's lead to a nearby jade pillar by two Andorians, taking an arm each as he's pulled against the column, the disciplinarian mere paces behind him._

 _After an apprehensive moment of silence, the master ordered: "Begin!"_

' _Well, I did want to know what being whipped felt like…' Recalling his gladiator holoprogram from the Enterprise with sarcastic mirth, but his thoughts were shattered as the rod smacked against his back. Not only did he feel the impact throughout his body, his back felt like it was just split open, the rod on fire as it burned the fresh wound. He was starting to shiver and shake from just the first hit. 'Fuck, I'm a pussy!' He's been shot, stabbed and old enough to know what stepping on a LEGO feels like, this should be the Diet Coke of pain to him, as he waited for the next hit, his mind quickly wondered, 'Shit, does Coke even exist?!'_

 _He couldn't take his mind off the pain after the second one, and instead, after the eighth, his mind drifted into a… Ivan would call it a 'semi-passed out state' but he thought even clearer, despite the pain administered, thinking things and subjects he had no idea how he got to muse about. Words he didn't have, well, words for started to hop around in his noggin and just as he began to focus on one, 'Aeh'lla', Ivan was brought out of his tormented reverie as the Andorian's that held him secure to the pillar, released him, dropping to his knees and fully aware again._

 _Ivan panted as he leant on the blue, stony material, brining himself up and turning to see the crowd silent, and the master said, "The punishment is done, return to your tasks."_

 _Ivan took the bite-guard out of his mouth, looking to Annel with a tentative smile, "We still hiking, right?" Sliding his shirt back on, the material sticking to his back from the blood._

Then _Annel smiled._

 _Ivan was proud of this little action of his, but when he smiled back he screamed as if h_ is entire body was on fire.

He ebbed and waned back and forth between conscious and unconscious states, eyes fluttering closed as it tried to writhe and scream out in pain.

[]

Eustace entered the code into to their shuttle's berth, the circular door inside the vessel opening first before their dock double doors swayed inwards, allowing Eustace access. The mechanic was just happy the shuttle's waste disposal was as functional as the day Ivy brought it in for his inspection, but the Ferengi shuttle wasn't exactly up to snuff and despite the remarkable amount of latinum he's been paying Eustace, Ivy never seemed to have enough to upgrade the shuttle past its bare necessities, or simply never wanted to put the money to upgrading. 'Considering the projects we've been working on, I don't blame him.' Ferengi ships were actually quite reliable, despite initial assumptions otherwise, if a Ferengi themselves planned to build it, planned to pilot, loan it or put in upkeep; they sought to make sure that a minimal was required to keep it at peak performance. If not out of wanting a superior product, then out of a desire to not wanting to pay others to help the ship function and operate. Looking at it though, the previous owner stripped everything of value: replicator, pilot control console, the greedy bugger likely would have taken the impulse engines or the warp drive if he thought he could get away with it.

As much as they were living on the habitat for its combination of security and privacy, somethings in premium living in space even in Orion territories, their private docks were nearly bursting with activity, various private ownerships either housing or constructing vehicles, starships and whatever combination in between them. More so was the fact that these neighbors sought nothing between themselves but treachery, discomfort or some variant of deception due to either personal feuds or corporate ventures that had become incompatible with one another. The Syndicate was more than happy to turn the other way to it all on two very simple conditions: don't disrupt commerce on the station, and don't step on any Syndicate members toes, unless preauthorized to do so. Thankfully, whatever job that Ivy did to get both himself and Eustace by proxy into the grander graces of the Syndicate, it was enough that many saw him as made, and if not that by the more cynical and traditionalist members of the criminal organization; a valued ally that they would rather not piss off.

But this privacy meant that hiring outside help had to be kept at a minimum; so imagine the fury of the half-Tellarite that he not only had to retune and maintain the shuttle, but most of the time cleans it of the blood either Ivy or his prey somehow splatters across the hull, floor and roof in imaginative and physics defining patterns, plus the scattered equipment and weapons that he put in a satchel. "It's my luck that I'm turned into a part time janitor." He was simply glad it was restricted to the controls this time, easy to clean off with a wipe of a disinfecting cloth. Eustace still gets nostalgic tingles with the panel Ivy decided to use; the blacks filled with blues, greens and teals, an old Federation interface from the generation of starships prior to the current era, save dotted with red, somewhat dry from the half day trip back from the target, kept somewhat warm from the controls not quite fully powering down, 'Starfleet usually kept a backup battery that absorbed some charge and used for immediate reactivation, useful in an emergency where every second counted and where the time to repower everything might cost lives', Eustace recalled as he wiped everything clean. As he began his old routine, he pondered what his life would be like if he had joined Starfleet. Only a handful of Tellarites really did so, in fact there was barely enough across the whole Fleet to scrap together to crew a _Constellation_. Of course, he'd have to deal with thin skinned humans, their boundless ego, arrogance and then he'd have to be limited by piles of red-tape. The iPod? Wouldn't meet regs, but has saved Ivy's life three times when they knew seeking medical attention in the states he was in would have brought too much attention, some of it the kind they certainly didn't want. What they were building on Allon Prime? Eustace had _never before_ been so excited for being a partner in such a pet project, and most of the concepts and schematics came from someone whom initially most would believe to be a bit of a simpleton. Of course, Eustace had to grind down the rough edges of most of it, but if what they were working towards was possible, and he's done the math dozens of times by now, their school project on the planet would revolutionize the entire quadrant! "If something doesn't go wrong and we end up blowing up the planet…" His cynicism returned with a vengeance. "Gravity, though predictable, is an exceptionally harsh mistress if mistreated." Sounding too much like when he was an instructor at dry-dock. Returning his thoughts to the point; he was sure as hell glad that he _hadn't_ gone Starfleet.

Eustace pressed the plain, silver, circular disc over his left breast, "Hey Ivy? You alive?"

No response.

Either the half-tellarite had to wait just a bit longer or the iPod actually crapped out and he might very well be dead.

[][]

 _The first month was a bitch and a half. He'd learned what was considered the basics of Andorian military knowledge, and Ivan honestly doubted even a general from his own time would know half the amount of shit he just had to cram. It wasn't just things like tactics, survival training and command, no, it got into the nitty gritty of the various weapons and cultures throughout the quadrant, how to utilize, understand and defeat the enemy, naval systems, holo simulators (which you got beat for losing, naturally) all with the hollow reminder that while this is an intense and successful academy, able to train and build some of the best tactical specialists the Federation has ever seen; it's all practice, deadly drilling and will be vastly different in the real world._

 _However, of all the weapons he's had to look over once, fake it 'til he made it, and make it look like he was a goddamn prodigy of a killing machine; he learned that phasers weren't the best weapons, more like the aspirin of firearms._

 _It was militarized mining equipment, the time to hit its target, the damage done, and recharge time for the next shot was complete and utter shit, the only truly redeemable qualities being the more adaptable energy output, stun to vaporize (which drained in five shots in a pistol), and in a bind like a cave in or destroying elements of the environment was also beneficial and lastly was the widening of the beam._

 _As he ran with his training squad to the next range, Ivan felt a wave of nostalgia, yearning for his old weaponry, even the crummy AK-Fourty-Seven that he was forced to use after supplies for Chinese firearms were the only ones he could get to. The firing of the weapons had kick that he was used to, impacts were near-instant compared to the energy weapons he's trained to use, and the fact that they couldn't be used to stun made it an actual weapon, not a taser that could be modified to kill and dig some dirt._

 _Forcing his thoughts back into focus, a rush of fear ran through him, fearing he'd be attacked by his comrades during that momentary weakness. Despite knowing the Conventions forbidding the right of ambush while outside the property of the Zan-Zanair, Ivan's paranoia inflamed from the idea of being flogged for a fourth time._

 _Annel, who was this bizarre mix between a drill-sergeant and a friend or confident, admitted that the number of times a new initiate is punished the first few weeks is between six or seven times, where the squadrons form a pecking order. While Ivan's monomania towards possible attack has saved him a couple of times, he was nowhere near as good a fighter as those he's met here, where even before an Andorian initiate finds his or her way here, they had been training in hand-to-hand years before being admitted, alongside either serving or had served Starfleet, was a member of the Imperial Guard or had some other, professional military training which paled his own bootleg army training from Militia Command, but he had the decade or so of just killing fuckers and trying not to be the fucker getting killed whenever and with whatever he could get his hands on._

 _So, when they had to make camp for the night in the folds of the mountain, stories were obviously being traded between the Andorians, past issues with COs, funny crap they did to each other during downtime and finally, "Hey, Ivy, what's the worst thing that happened during a deployment?"_

 _Ivan stared dully at Veya for a cold second before scoffing, "Oh, to me personally? Got shot in the ass once, hurt so bad I shit myself."_

" _No," The woman clarified, putting down her ration bar, "I mean, worst thing you came across. I once had to use a Klingon toilet when me and my squadron were deployed in the Arcanas Sector."_

 _Ivan's mind quickly recalled a particularly disturbing memory and shook his head, "I'd uh rather not."_

 _The small group of Andorians were instantly making this weird 'Gok, gok, gok' sound, where Veya sighed, "They're just going to do that all night until you tell them a story."_

 _Ivan sighed, putting down his food tray and clasped his hands together, muttering to himself, "Shouldn't have stopped drinkin'…" Before asking, "Any of ya know Earth colonies, territories or history in any detail? Maybe a bit of history?"_

" _Only the stuff they teach us in grade school." An Andorian Ivan couldn't name stated. "You think if we were smart enough to brown nose the humans with learning past when they went to warp, we'd be here?" Causing several other Andorians to chuckle._

 _Ivan shrugged, "Good! Alrighty… so, me and my platoon were attached to this offensive on the border of Arizona and Utah uh territories in one of my world's nation-states. A lot of us were used to hanging around the forested areas in camps or building the worst trenches you can imagine, but this family had a big house in the middle of nowhere, came to us, not knowing who in the hell we were and invited all twenty-five of us inside in shifts, we got to sleep without worrying about the rain, the mud or the goddamn bugs for the first time in a while. End of the week, we get this group coming into the perimeter, nearly gunned 'em down from shock, but they were unarmed and cut up all over, just mutilated; missing fingers, ears, noses, willies, tongues, parts of their jaws, shit like that."_

 _Ivan sighed, sitting back and staring at the fire, "We tried helping 'em but we didn't even have enough insulin to keep the platoon's diabetic from shakin'. We figured out that this warlord was roundin' people up and taking them to his own personal butcher's shop. Not only eating some of the bits himself, but giving them to dogs, ducks, pigs, stuff like that, but that wasn't even the worst bit. Two days having the poor fucks, I was sleeping in the basement with George, no not in the way you're thinking so stop your smirkin', and we just hear this shrill ass scream in the middle of the night, we run up, the wife of the house was stabbed and bleeding on the floor, tryin' to chase one of the mutilated bastards that took her baby. Me and mine followed the shit deep into the forest, trying to get closer to the cryin', and once we thought we was a tooth's skin away, it got a lot louder, before it was just quiet, could only hear my breathin' and then there was this god awful smell, and ran towards this fire the guy made. We were thinking he just made a fire after he killed the kid and is resting… nah, we found him sitting, just sitting, and the fire_ was _the little girl, the guy doused it in some gas he stole and lit the baby on fire. Me and George uh… we was expecting the guy to be smiling, or afraid of us or anything, but he didn't do nothin', just stared at the fire, he almost seemed… disappointed somehow, like this was gunna be the end-all be all of his problems and was stumped when it wasn't. We beat his ass some, but he didn't struggle as we dragged him back to the house. The parents um… the way they sounded when I told 'em what was up… just…" Ivan shook his head, "So, we wrangle the sicko to a tree, a few hours later, we goto the dad and gave him a knife, got the other three kids to see their mom in camp while we patched her up. I uh tried to make them have some fun, playing hide and seek, helped them pick some berries and herbs for dinner, but everytime I looked at 'em, I could only think of that smell. The mom was alright, some bleeding, but we fixed her up, the kids were concerned but none the wiser and we left the parents the job of explaining what happened to their sister, and by the time we got back to the dad, he was a mess, and while their wasn't a lot of the demented fucker left to chop up to begin with, the bastard was just blood and bone at the base of the tree. We cleaned him up a bit, got him back to his kids and wife, found what was left of their daughter and buried her with what little dignity that could be given, and the platoon left that morning."_

 _Ivan sat back, looking at what was left of his food tray and threw it over his shoulder to plummet to the ground._

 _The Andorians were staring at Ivan, expressionless and grim. One finally broke the silence and asked, "What happened to the family?"_

" _I uh… dunno." Ivan sucked air sharply through his teeth, "A couple years later, I was in the area and forced myself to try and see them again. The house was burnt down, barely a foundation left but no bodies. I like to think they got away from it all and found someplace better." Ivan tried to force a smile but it didn't feel at all convincing, "I swear, all my worst days are on Thursdays." He shook his head, peeling his eyes from the fire to looked at Veya, aghast at the story, "So, how bad was that shitter exactly? Did it at least have toilet paper?" Ivan did feel better somewhat about telling his two-cents, and it was satisfying knowing that occurrence of his never, or may never, have had happened in this universe._

" _I… I'll take first watch." Veya said before sitting up and picking up her rifle._

 _The squad's commander quickly ordered that they douse the fire and get in their racks._

 _Ivan couldn't sleep and almost thanked a still disturbed looking Veya for lookout and he didn't get anyone else to replace him the whole night. When the sun finally came up and its rays prodded his face, Ivan couldn't help but smile, not understanding why he felt lighter from the ball of plasma's coming._

[][]

Eustace smiled as the readout read that his warp-bubble was back to optimum, packed his tools and headed to the ship's door, typed quickly, auto atmospheric checked out, then the door slid open to… a trio of strange men?

The middle one, a tall, pale and slender human with brown hair, a thin mustache and green eyes surrounded by rows of wrinkles, the left of him was, oh joy! A member of the tellarite species Eustace so fondly remembers trying to avoid, half of his own age, porkly, portly, with a glorious blonde beard and almost as surprised to see Eustace as he was to see him. Then lastly there was another human, darker of complexion, much darker than Ivan even, with deep black hair in a long braid that dangled on the back of an otherwise bald scalp.

"Huh… I thought I paid rent the other day… how long have you been stand- ahh!" The middle human whipped down with his Klingon disruptor, striking Eustace in his nose and immediately feeling the broken set of already struggling nostrils, "God!" He yelled out as he backed into the shuttle, cradling his nose with both hands, blood streaming out and beginning to drip out from between his grip. "What the hell?! Who are you guys?"

"Where's Ringo?" The darker human demanded as the trio fully entered the shuttle, scoping out the new surroundings.

"What in the hell is a Ringo?" Pacing quickly to the console, the only furniture or obstacle to hide behind in the spartan shuttle. He pressed the emergency access panel in the front, out of sight of the intruders, and stealthily activated a signaler that led to his apartment, holofields hiding the entrances to both their quarters, and relaying the comms of both himself and Ivy. Something they made just in case Eustace might get in trouble by proxy from Ivy's missions, the shorter of which was the one who complained the most about making it in the first place.

His comm unit activated, a simple, low chime that made all three of the thugs point their weapons at him. "I-it's okay! Just my reminder to uh take a break off work every two hours!"

"Get away from the controls!" The tellarite barked, bearing a plasma rifle of somekind, heavily modified and based only loosely on an Orion pattern he's seen before, appearing more like those double-barreled shotguns he's seen Ivy firing in the holosuites. "Now!" He gave a deadly tone to the roar.

"Alright! Alright! Where do you-?" The stunted alien thwacked the side of Eustace's scalp with the end of his rifle, "Ah damnit…" He muttered as he leant a hand out and tried to reach the bulkhead, dizzy and seeing specks of stars. ' _Shit!_ ' Eustace's head snapped back up, eyes wide in horror, ' _What if the iPod doesn't deactivate? He's medically induced to sleep while it repairs him!'_ "Okay, okay, listen… if you want the shuttle, take it! I just did a tune up and if you're persuasive enough, can barter a nearly new price from it!"

"Where." The pale human lifted his pistol, "Is." Pointing it at Eustace. "Ringo?" Firing a bolt that struck so close to Eustace's head, the latter thought he got his whiskers caught on fire!

"Ah!" Shuffling a step away from the new hole in the shuttle, "Shit! Okay, okay, okay!" He held up both hands and looked down submissively, "If who you want is the guy who hired me to fix the shuttle, h-he hired me anonymously! He might be the guy you're after! H-h-he's going by my quarters, I-I-I-I mean my apartment later today to do a once over and pay me if it's all good!"

"Bear?" The darker human asked the paler one, "You sure this is Ringo's? I mean… the shuttle doesn't even have a chair in here and the bastard can't be in one of his little yachts without a couch the size of this habitat."

"Yes! I'm sure!" 'Bear' yelled back at his compatriot, "Must've caught him before he nested is all."

"I'm sure pig-shit here," The tellarite gestured to Eustace, "will lead us right to him. Where's this apartment of yours?"

[]

 _Ivy sighed blissfully as he laid down on the collection of fabrics, barely withholding the cave floor's terrdying cold. "Might need another chance to warm up again before we leave." Ivan rested his head over his arm, wrapping his other around his 'dance' partner's neck and pulling her in tight._

 _Veya rolled her eyes, "Where do you get all this endurance?" Smiling lazily up at him, antenas drooping seemingly as spent as she was._

" _Eating good, getting eight hours rest and watching your ass for solid four hours really puts a pep in my step." Ivy grinned._

" _Did you also say this when you slept with Zh'evhanorah?"_

 _Ivan chuckled awkwardly, "Oh… Zhev… right… not the eight hours bit… couldn't sleep one first few months."_

 _Veya didn't look all too impressed with his response and scoffed. They settled into a pregnant silence, Veya from her uncertainty on how to proceed with whatever_ this _was, and Ivan_ from trying to ignore a distance sound, a tone that made him nervous and filled with dread.

" _But…" Ivy said aloud, "if you want me to be with you and only you, you can say so… and we'll see how it goes after we leave training."_

 _Veya looked back up at Ivan, serious and without a tone of humor in her tone as she said, "_ This is not how it actually happened."

 _Ivan gave a confused shake of the head, "The hell are you talking about?"_

 _Veya looked down and lazily traced the bleached blemishes on his chest then shoulder, dots and large unshapley blots that now discolour his tan skin. Tingles of pain returned to Ivan's mind from how they formed; thrown into the wilds far removed from any path or mark of civilization, with only the clothes on his back and a knife. Acid rain was bad. Acid snow was worse. And it happened in this part of Andoria, rarely did it do so, but the human was one of those lucky few to be thrown out, nearly naked, in weather even Andorians feared._

"You know as well as I do that this is a memory."

 _Ivy sighed, "Yeah…"_

"And you know how it ends." _Veya sat up and straddled Ivan, giving one last view of her bodacious blue body, her muscular and refine stomach and thighs, heavenly, athletic breasts, pearly hair tied up in a loose pony tail… where she then reached behind Ivan and pulled out her knife… now_ his knife… _and laid fully down on him and kissed him._ "I think the real me would have taken your offer though, if you had the guts to say it."

 _Ivy capitulated, hearing the din of his and_ Eustace's emergency beacon more clearly.

"You'd said you'd give me something to remember you, this place and everyone?" _Ivan finished the memory he both loved and hated._

 _Veya gave a sad smile before leaning down with knife, knees over his arms and her other hand gripping his hair firmly._

 _Ivan clenched his teeth so hard he thought he'd break a cuspid, Veya carefully, slowly dipped the tip of the blade into his left cheekbone. "For the memory…" Dragging it, even slower and with more care towards the center of Ivan's face, "of the joys and terrors…" The blade met the thin skin of the bridge of his nose, and made Ivan gasp and almost yell out as the knife continued its path. "of the dozen men and women you killed to reach here, from your own platoon and elsewhere…" the blade stopped, having only gone halfway to his other cheek, below the middle of his right eye. "know you are more now then what you were when you arrived here."_

 _The ritual was complete, his mark would be accepted by the master as suitable for his graduation. In a week, he'd leave, marked and branded by Andoria's finest warriors in both body and soul. He wasn't sure where or how Veya would be marked, but the terrible fact was, he would probably never find out._

 _Even as blood poured over his face, Ivan sat up and kissed Veya violently, whom thrown aside the knife. While he was in shock, filled with pain; lust and quiet dread of missing the opportunity to make love to Veya won out, his body reacting as quickly as before. His blood made a large almond shape in the center of her face, and ran so freely she had to close her eyes to keep it from stinging. More so with a bizarre mix of gusto and demented mourning._

 _He was going to kill her a week from now when she challenged him, with the same blade no less._

Ivan wearily opened his eyes… or eye, the left one was dry and stuck to his lids, seeing the inside of his iPod, his claustrophobia was only brought to heel when he fully recognized that the emergency beacon continued to sound off from his armor, set neatly in a corner of his room.

Ivy needed to be careful and quiet, but if nobody had taken him out of the iPod or killed him in it, there was a chance that the shuttle was breached, stolen both probably with Eustace still in it, or that their apartment was taken over and the holofields were holding up.

Ivan pressed the emergency release, and prayed no one heard the hiss of air as he moved to his armor, devoid of weapons. He shivered, the iPod having stripped the clothes off his body, he took up his scanner and read the room for lifeforms. 'Eustace plus three huh?' The scanning quickly read out the species: 'Tellarite: Shorter stature means greater difficulty with combat overall, organs are located more to the center and at the spine. Humans:' Ivy's cheek twitched, 'ignore, for now.'

While being somewhat under equipped, Ivy could somehow feel the weight of his armor and not only due to the grogginess of the iPod's after affects, but that sinking, cleansing, melting away Ivy until he was left all he needed for the fight.

Headhunter went to the side of his quarters, as far away as possible from the door, accessing his apartment's countermeasures. Namely; the 'knock-knock'.

[]

Eustace lifted his face from his rag, usually soaked in either sweat or mechanical runoff from his tools. He gave a small shrug to himself, 'At least I'm sitting down again.' Before his gaze drifted to the black bag just next to him on the dinner table. 'Wish I picked a different seat…' "So," The tech gathered the courage to say, "w-while we wait mind telling me what this Ringo guy did to piss you off?"

"I doubt we have that much time." 'Bear' nudged the darker human, "But long story short; backstabbing asshole."

"I assume it's about something with the Feds or Starfleet at least, yeah?" Eustace pointed at the three in a lazy circle, "Bet my bottom bar that Ringo either sold you out, or got your ship or cargo caught by 'em." Patting his nose, "How close am I?"

The Tellarite shrugged and nodded, looking to Bear, "Pretty close actually."

"There isn't a prize for winning." Bear rolled his eyes. "And it was to the Klingons, not the Feds or Starfleet."

Eustace's blood chilled on the spot just _hearing_ the name of the species, then froze solid at the possibility that if Ringo and these gentlemen were related to the Klingons that it might lead them to where he lived! "O-oh…" Staring at the ground.

"The hells in this…?" The still unnamed human went past the distracted Eustace, and only when the latter heard the cord to the bag being untied did he stifle a gasp.

Then the human just stared at the opening, looking between it and Eustace in stunned horror.

"Georgy?" Bear asked with intrigue, "Bag of Latinum?"

"Some uh…" Georgy coughed awkwardly, "Some man's head is in this bag." Letting go of it and walking to the otherside of the apartment, enough that when the bag landed back on the table, a small tuff of hair from the Denobulan's scalp was visible.

"No goddamn way... you're tooling me! Payback for making you pay for the ride ov- oh good LORD!" Bear tipped the bag down enough to see the dead man's crossed eyes, still and glassy, flecks of blood on the bridge of his nose.

The Tellarite literally honked in terror, pointing his gun at Eustace, who's only expression was him staring at the floor as his face crawled into an awkward, irksome look of apology. "Sooo…"

"Where the hell is your bathroom?! I'm gunna puke!" Georgy demanded, pacing from one wall to the other looking for a door, fist over his mouth. "Where are the other rooms at all?"

"Oh I uh…" But he had worse things to worry about other then the man sicking on his carpet, as Bear and his stocky alien colleague strode right up to Eustace with their guns in his face. "I-I can explain this! Really! I-I-I-I-I didn't even _know_ there was a head in there! Y-your friend Ringo was probably going to pick it up too!"

"Ringo is a bastard, but he's not this kind of sick." Bear explained unusually calm. "Who is that? Why-?"

The door dinged and the Tellarite fired his plasma rifle without a moment's hesitation at its direction. The green plume of hyper-heated matter wasn't so much a beam or a burst, the cone of fire was a single, shrouding _THRAT_ that burned a solid hole the size of Eustace's chest in the middle of it, where the hall on the other side was singed and smoking, a black crater uncomfortably close to the communal window. 'That thing isn't even a rifle, it's a damn blunderbuss!' Eustace gave an impressed second glance at the partially glowing 'rifle' in the Tellarite's hands.

"Check who's there!" Bear commanded Georgy, who shook his head, now sober from the sound of weapon's fire, he took out his phaser, those Starfleet hand held ones the size of a freighter, and quickly marched to the hole, peering swiftly through it at all angles. "Nobody!"

Whether he meant that no one being there in the literal sense or no corpse, Eustace wasn't sure.

Then the lights went out, leaving everyone in pitch black save for the small tunnel of light that came from the corridor through the hole Georgy was at.

"What the hell is going on pig?!" Bear demanded, unsure if it was directed at Eustace or the Tellarite, neither had much time to ponder it as a door within the apartment was heard sliding open.

Ivy launched at the Tellarite, slamming a knee straight into the stout alien's snout, flooring him, his comrades quickly snapping around and firing their weapons, but shots were wide on their first volley, giving enough time for Eustice to reach into his sachel, pull out the pistol and yell out, "RAPID FIRE!" The gun gave a quick click before he fired, spraying the weapon's deadly contents towards the pair, the bullets striking all possible save the ones intended, but forced his attackers to duck and seek cover behind the furniture, where they fired back and Eustace threw himself under the table, cursing wildly.

Capitalizing on the distraction, Bear and Georgy spotted the new man pick up their Tellarite's weapon, seeing it charge but just as Ivy was nearing to point and fire it; they fired.

Ivy was in the middle of the apartment, no cover to his sides and his back practically to the wall.

So, he grit his teeth, focused on remembering his training, and made lemonade.

Ivan dropped the weapon, ducked in time for the phaser to hit behind him, but the bursts from the disruptor were coming in faster and with less time between them, using his position, he jumped up, stuck out his legs to the wall, and yelled out as he used every muscle in his body to keep off the ground, pushing up and off the wall, almost twisting his ankles as he spun to the right, nearly losing his footing as he landed, several disruptor shots smacking the path he made on the apartment wall.

"Stun!" Eustace yelled out, throwing a small ball after he hovered it over Ivan's gauntlet, the resulting effect stunning not only the pair of intruders but blinded and deafened Eustace himself due to how close it was.

Ivan sprinted over to the closest man, dazed and rubbing his eyes as he wrapped his right hand behind the back of his, grabbing his face, while reaching for the base of his neck with his left and snapped his vice, a sickening squelch of bone as it cracked, the man's face a horrified mask as his jaw slacked, eyes glazed and he fell to the ground, dead.

Before Ivan kicked the last intruder in the gut, and as he bowed over, pressed his fingers against the base of his neck, the Vulcan Nerve pinch affecting him almost instantly, he groaned as he fell into unconsciousness.

Ivan didn't spare time for a breath as he rushed over to the drooling and nearly catatonic Eustace as he mewled on the floor. "Hey! You alright?" Ivan demanded as he picked the man up, set up the toppled over chair and guided him to sit in it.

Eustace's response was a startled but relieved yell, unintelligible as he smiled and patted Ivy's hand reassuringly.

Ivy smiled back, patting Eustace as he picked up his pistol, reached into the satchel, reloaded it and took out his knife, looking to the Tellarite, whom was starting to sit up, rubbing his head.

He noticed Ivan walking to him, looking for his plasma rifle, seeing it behind him, he tried to crawl towards it, but Ivan lifted his pistol, "Anti-Personnel." And shot the Tellarite in the back of the head, its contents turning the carpet beneath him black as they spilled out.

Ivy stared lividly at the last living man, unashamedly walked into the corridor, assessing for possible escape, instead looking down at a team of the station's security.

"Uh hey Mister Dallas!", Needing a second to remember the identity he uses commonly, the man said, decked in riot gear from head to toe, pointing disruptors at the man. The leader, pointed his rifle down and took off his helmet, revealing a middle aged, balding orion man, wrinkles only lightly distracting the man from the pathetic whisps of curly brown hair that barely clung to life in the middle of his almost conical head. "Didn't uh hear you were back on the station."

Ivy nodded and relaxed. "Heya officer, yeah… had some crazy jet lag… didn't have the strength to let ya'll know, sorry."

Deputy Tanner leaned to the side to see the glimpse of one of the other intruders laying on the floor, "This part of uh ahem official business?"

"No." Ivy shook his head, "this was a bit of a random dispute between strangers. I'll get it cleaned up."

He gave a stern nod back, "See that you do. And I must remind you that public exposure is frowned upon, even in Orion space."

Ivy smiled, "Hey, just for you; no charge."

The orion gave a humored huff before nodding in goodbye. "Dallas." Putting his helmet back on and pointing back to the turbolift for his men.

"Tanner." Ivy replied before heading back into the apartment.

[]

Eustace gave a happy sigh as a half dressed Ivy removed the Cartilage Repair Probe from his sore nostril, breathing freely again. "Thanks Ivy."

Ivy smiled and shrugged, "Least I could do, sorry I wasn't awake sooner."

The half-Tellarite rubbed his nostrils, "How did you get that shot up by the way? Worst I've ever seen you, and you still look like _shrak_."

Ivan smiled both at the candid comment from his friend and the hiccup that his universal translator gave. "There was a little boy, his I presume." Pointing lazily to the table that held the barely covered head of the target.

Eustace gave a small glare, giving his nose another rub from the buzzing-tickle that flared up. "Did you…?"

Ivy looked up at him and scoffed, "Thought I did."

Eustace sighed, quickly putting two and two together. "You saved the child? Was this before or after he shot you?"

Ivy was silent, looking down and double checking his medkit before shoving the compact bag into a section of his curiass's back.

Eustace withheld saying anymore, uncertain whether to voice his approval or simply let the subject drop, knowing that whatever events may have occurred, they were his choices and having another say their piece in this, good or bad, would be insulting or patronizing. So, Eustace placed his hand on Ivy's shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. "Thanks."

Ivy inclined his head in Eustace's direction as reaching the bare minimum of a response before he replied, "Pack our stuff, we'll use the shuttle to head to our hideout planetside as soon as I'm finished with my job. We need to keep low."

Eustace wanted to protest but considering the number of elements that have converged so quickly within the past few hours, wisdom would suggest being safe rather than sorry. "Mind if I take this?" Eustace dragged up the Tellarite's plasma gun, "It's a very impressive weapon."

"I don't think he'll complain." Looking to smaller corpse filled bag, "Just make sure you double check for any tracking markers or corporate locks, I can deal with thugs with guns any day of the week, but I doubt we can handle lawyers."

Eustace grumbled, "This isn't my first trip to Riza."

Ivy smiled, "I'll be back in a half hour." Taking up the ends of not only the two bodybags but the hogtied and chemically unconscious survivor, before pacing over to the table and picking up the head and tying it, hopefully for the last time, and latching it to his belt.

"What about your helmet? It'll take more time for me to repair it." Eustace reminded, only to laugh when Ivy smacked his belt, "Oh you'll be using _that?_ Good luck choking it down."

"Considering the shaft luck has been feeding me recently; swallowing this won't be much to scuff at." Ivy laughed with him as he took out a black capsule, near the same size and shape as a typical chicken egg, but the tip of the top of it had a long string and a sticky tap that Ivy placed at his adam's apple before giving a long, hesitant breath of distaste then putting the egg in his mouth, tilting his head back and swallowing.

Ivy had to wait and hold his breath for almost ten hold seconds as the device began to powerup and prepare to activate against his esophagus, Eustace watching in dreadful fascination as his friend tried not to panic from the machine choking him. 'That's why he has the string, afterall,' Eustace thought to himself reassuringly, 'to pull the thing out just in case.'

Ivy gave a mix between a gag and a burp as the device unfolded against the inside of his neck, filters sealing the fore of his gullet, and when he felt he wouldn't be choked to death by the machine; he put the tag inside his mouth against the inside of his cheek until it stuck. "Fuck…" Ivy's voiced warbled with an electronically manfufactured baritone, "… just realized how hungry I was." He said to himself before coughing, slipping his tactical mask on, sticking the power core under his shirt, the mask sealing at the neck, the traditionally plain black ski mask sealing with polymer on his mouth and eyes. Donning his armor, he suddenly longed for the interface and data feed his helm provided. 'Weapons matter only in the hands of the warrior that wield them.' He recalled his teachings.

"I'll get a big meal ready for you when you get to the Dock." Eustice smiled and waved to Ivy as the latter ordered a transporter beam for him and the 'cargo' he had in hand to the shuttle.

[]

"Subject Four strikes again…" The woman smiled as she tilted her head at the datapadd.

"Again?" The Starfleet intelligence lieutenant stared between her and two other mystery Starfleet officers, leaning back in his chair, fighting the habit of putting his feet on the desk. "You are telling me that this guy's well known and you've been keeping track, commander?"

The woman looked up at the SI, long black hair falling off her face enough for him to glimpse Vulcanoid ears, but the ridge that crawled up the center of her face and pale, almost white, blue skin made him think she was Bolian with hair implants, violet eyes looked between himself and the two tall men at her side. "Well… attacks this unique tend to get flagged. You see patterns. But! We haven't gotten a survivor before."

The intelligence man looked to the men flanking the woman, noting their initial appearances denoting one species, one a tall Saurian, with his lizardlike features, but he had a nose that looked unlike the reptialians, and more like a Grazerite. "Uh, what was your name again?" Looking to the other, a man that seemed to be a Trill, but had bulbouse temples that protruded outwards and Batazoid black eyes.

"Commander Heinz." She looked appallingly at the datapadd. "You sent in an official demand for investigation to your CO?"

"This… you're not here for that?"

The commander stared at the officer, "No." Before looking to the men at her flank, "Ensign Heinz," Directing it specifically at the smaller of the men.

His eyebrows shot up, "You two related?" The ensign stared at him, feeling a small, paranoid tickle that he was a reading his mind.

"Only in a metaphorical sense, anything you might've left out of the report?"

Before he uttered a syllable, the ensign stated, "He hasn't."

Staring back at the creep, the SI scoffed, "Thanks for the vouch, but-"

"We're not here for any official capacity, but that doesn't matter." The commander stated, "You will withdrawal your request… this whole thing might just be a waste of resources, leave it to the locals to check out."

"Yes…" Feeling unusually tired, "I will withdrawal the request."

"Good!" Commander Heinz deleted the information on the padd before pacing around to the otherside of the desk, placing a tiny device the size of a fingernail on the computer, "You won't worry about this incident or our meeting, nothing of note happened." The computer sputtered to life before the memory eradicator searched the machine for recent information and destroyed it. "Be well!" The threesome left the intelligence officer's office, contacting their ship, "Heinz ready for transport." All three beaming back to the _Miranda_ docked to the station.

The ship's captain turned his chair to the team and smiled, "Progress?"

"Plenty. Authorization to follow up on it?" Commander Heinz smiled towards the man, her friend and mentor.

"Granted." Nodding as he placed his fingers together, asking, "I assume you want a ship and your team?"

"I'd want a fleet and an army if my hypothesis of who Subject Four is correct," She shrugged, "But that's not how we work."

He shrugged back, fingers still together, "I'll have a vessel delivered to the station, would a destroyer be sufficient? You may have to lose the Starfleet uniforms for a while."

She nodded, "Such are the times, but what will be the policy if we fail or are wrong?"

"Depends on how poorly you perform, so be subtle."

"Understood," Heniz sighed, "I'll imprint our confession in our quarters, just in case."

The human smiled as he stood up, straightening out his black uniform, "Very well. Good luck, operatives."

[]

Ivan heard the panicked ruffling of one of the bags, chuckling as the bastard gave a short scream, setting the shuttle to autopilot as turned to face his last remaining victim to be. "Oh goody! Was wondering if you were gunna wake up. I know how it feels to wake up, dazed and confused in a small, confined and creepy place that you have no memory of being put into, lemme help out."

Headhunter unzipped the bag, the man popped out, hands bound, eyes snapping every which way while looking for a means of escape.

"What do I call ya, hoss?" Ivan asked as he pulled out his pistol, pull back the charge.

The man was _very_ calm as he stared at the weapon, "Georgy." In almost of a sigh.

The contract killer shrugged, "No last names in the Quadrant anymore? Not that it matters right?" Ivan turned around, holstering the pistol, glimpsing out the front of the shuttle and said: "We're almost there," Noting the dotting of icy asteroids, "I'll take care of this, here." The man gave a canteen to Georgy as he then picked up two other bodies saying, "Computer, active security field." As he pressed the key for the shuttle's hatch. Looking over at Georgy as he sipped some water, "How long you worked with these jackasses?"

"Eight years." He nearly whispered, "They had families…"

"They all had families." Ivan scoffed as he kicked one out, the security field strong enough to preserve the atmosphere inside the shuttle but weak enough that it couldn't hold up a body for long. "Ya ever think that with my buddy?"

Georgy didn't answer, the shock of what was happening starting to slowly sink in.

"So…" Ivan kicked out the last one. "why in the Sam Hill were you guys doing what you were doing?"

"Got a lead that a former partner of ours was at your location."

Ivan stopped, looked out to the nearly bare space just a bad trip away from embracing. "Just a random lead? Who by?"

"We assumed it was by some contact that heard of him, which led to another contact-"

"How were you morons given the leeway to run in Orion space?" Ivan rubbed his palm through his mask. "It's almost a favor to be getting rid of you." Ivan then picked up something from his pack and paced over to the still prone Georgy, sitting in his own body bag, "Now, bit of a villain cliché lesson: ya ever watch any old timey action or crime movies? The bad guy would tie a couple someones up, strap them with a few sticks of dynamite, tell them that the small plunger at their back will explode the other one and stop their own from going up, then leave. That shit, to me at least, is banal but there's this classic dynamic between the classical rogue, bandit, scoundrel and the victim I want to try out. Replicating TNT is suspicious, but an EVA mask? No prob. Life sign dampener? Eh, takes a bit of doing or some palm greasing but it's remarkably simple to get a hold of and because we don't have another someone to do this with, we need to improvise." Ivan grasped Georgy who barely resisted as he dragged the soon to be victim to the hatch and dropped the EVA mask in front of the kneeling man, "So here's the dilemma: your ass is gunna get spaced. No avoiding it, its in a spot where gangsters often dump bodies, and is habitable enough that someone doesn't have to worry about freezing to death, at least not for a few days. That mask will sustain about two hours of breathing time… you keep it on, you can stay that full duration, _but_ , that life sign dampener I mentioned? It will stay on while the mask is on. I had the computer program it so that it won't turn off after a half hour, so you can't tool the system by waiting that last minute then throw the thing off. No, you have to decide pretty damn quick whether or not you want to chew solid vacuum for a couple minutes, possibly get rescued, or keep the thing on and most definitely not get rescued. Boats come nearby every so often, they might pick ya up on sensors, do the right thing of ignoring the long-dead floating about and you can officially say that God shit a miracle out just for you. A small chance, or no chance yeah? Or…" Ivan pulled out his knife. "I can get my kicks by slitting your throat and watch you float out of my shuttle; the choice is yours." Presenting the knife in one hand and the EVA mask in the other.

"You are _insane_." Georgy slowly shook his head.

Ivan stared back at the man, "I prefer the term 'Differently Rational'."

Georgy looked between the two, tears welling in his eyes, lips straining wide as he yelled out, "Please, please, PLEASE! Just let me go!"

"No, no don't beg…" Ivan turned around for a moment, "I hate it when they beg."

Georgy continued to sob and plead, until Ivan finally scoffed, "Okay, choose for you." Headhunter secured the mask to the victim's face, activating it. "Alrighty, we're all set! Wish you luck! If you make it out of this, I'll get ya a drink. If not," Ivan shrugged, "oh well!" Before getting behind the now fully struggling man and kicked him out the hatch, slowly beginning to float away and Ivan waved, "Adios muchachos! Computer, take us to the rendezvous." Punching hatch closed.

[]

 **OK, no idea how that last part got past my final check, but it did and that whole thing is was actually from my first draft of this chapter. He was WAAAY more sadistic, bordered on some Hellraiser territory, but feel it didn't fit either the character or the setting. This IS going to be optimistic fanfiction of Star Trek, and while it will have undoubtedly darker, more violent elements, it's more character bound then not.**

 **And for those of you who are late to the party, you shall never know of which I speak.**

 **Suffer, puny mortals :3**

 **But moral of this! Double check, even if you triple checked.**

 **Adios!**


End file.
